The Outsiders
by sendintheclowns
Summary: The world seems to be conspiring against Sam and Dean. Will they survive the elements, their memories and a certain Yellow Eyed Demon? Conclusion to the They’re Here Trilogy featuring They’re Here and We’re in for a Bumpy Ride which are set post ELAC.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: The world seems to be conspiring against Sam and Dean. Will they survive the elements, their memories and a certain Yellow Eyed Demon? Conclusion to the They're Here Trilogy (They're Here and We're in for a Bumpy Ride) which are set post ELAC.

Chapter 1

Angry, dark clouds rolled and swirled across the sky. It looked like a nasty storm was brewing and Dean hoped he would have time to check out the lead on Dr. Osmond and get Sam back to Bobby's before the heavens opened up. The last thing his little brother needed right now was to get caught out in the rain.

Dean glanced briefly over at Sam and marveled at the inner strength of his younger brother. By no stretch of the imagination was getting accidentally committed to a psychiatric unit and then beaten within an inch of your life normal. But here was Sam, stretched out as much as the passenger seat would allow, staring out the passenger window, acting as though everything was just business as usual.

Sam sensed Dean's attention and turned his head. He quirked an eyebrow in question. His brother's vocal cords had been injured during a life saving procedure and he was forced to communicate with body language or via a laptop computer for now. It was frustrating for both brothers but only temporary.

Sam's demeanor relaxed as Dean's face broke into a smile. He returned his attention to the road as he mused on the way Sam relied on him. A simple smile from him held the power to comfort his brother. His injured brother.

His brother was listing to the side, his injured arm curled close to his body. The bruises on his face were fading but still colorful. "You feeling alright over there?"

Sam quickly nodded his head yes. He'd answered a little too quickly for Dean's liking. It was a typical Winchester answer and for that Dean couldn't fault him. Instead he smirked, trying to cover his concern. "Cause if you're not, I can turn the Impala around and take you back to the hospital. I'm sure your nurses would love to have you back."

He was equal parts serious and kidding when he asked about taking Sam back to the hospital. Sam had been insistent about leaving and Dean had been just as anxious to get him sprung but anyone could see he wasn't strong enough to be out yet. And the nurses weren't happy to see Sam leave. They had been falling all over themselves to take care of his 'sweet' little brother and he loved teasing Sam about it.

Sam rolled his eyes at his big brother.

"I'll take that as a no. We're going to make a brief stop at the gas station up ahead and then we're going straight to Bobby's. If you're good I'll read you a story before I tuck you in for a nap," Dean teased.

He was rewarded with a snort from Sam. Damn, it was good to see Sam upright and functional again. And his sense of humor was returning. He'd almost forgotten how much he enjoyed being in Sammy's company.

But that didn't stop Dean from wishing Sam had agreed to go directly to Bobby's while he pursued this lead on his own. He'd spent so much time and energy worrying about Sam that he craved some alone time. Just enough time to get his head together. But Sam needed him now and he resigned himself to the current situation.

Dean glanced back over at Sam and noticed he was starting to nod off. This Post Concussive Syndrome was really something. Sam's focus was screwed up, his short term memory was shot and it made him exhausted. Again Dean doubted the wisdom of dragging Sam with him to the gas station first but Sam had been adamant that they stay together.

"Wakey, wakey, princess. We're here," Dean said in a sing-song voice as he pulled up next to the gas station. Dean waited until Sam's eyes made eye contact with him before he continued on, "I want you to stay here while I talk to the guy inside, okay?"

He could easily read the burst of panic in Sam as he shifted with agitation in the passenger seat. He knew his brother was anxious when Dean was out of his sight but there were times when it wouldn't be safe for Sam to stay by his side. His brother shook his head 'no' vigorously and pointed to himself with his uninjured left arm and then at Dean. He was going wherever Dean was going.

"Look, Sam, you're exhausted. Just sit tight and I'll be back in fifteen minutes," Dean tried to reason with Sam but his brother crossed his arms over his chest and stared him down.

"Fine. But it's going to take us longer because I'll have to pry you out of the car and help you inside," Dean was exasperated but Sam's face was stubbornly set so he knew they'd just waste more time arguing about it.

Dean eyeballed the gathering clouds again. He could see lightning in the distance as he hustled around the car and opened Sam's door. Gently reaching in he helped maneuver Sam's legs out and then grasped Sam's left hand and tugged him upright. When Sam started to tilt backward Dean slipped an arm around Sam's waist to stabilize him.

Dean shook his head in frustration. Sam should be stretched out on a bed, resting, not traipsing around town. But there was no reasoning with Sam when he was in this mood.

The brothers slowly walked around the side of the building, Dean absorbing most of Sam's weight, and entered the door to the convenience store. Dean could feel Sam's energy flagging and cast about for a place to set his brother. Up against the wall he spied a chair and he practically had to drag Sam over to it.

Dean lowered Sam into the chair before he settled a hand on top of his brother's head, pushing it down between his legs. "Sam, you still with me?" He didn't expect a verbal reply but Dean could tell by the way Sam leaned limply into him that he wasn't in control of his faculties.

Dammit, he should have hog-tied Sam and forced him to go to Bobby's. But doing so would have been courting danger; eventually his brother would find a way to slip out and find Dean and that would be disastrous.

Muted footsteps approached from behind. "Excuse me, is he okay?" a voice asked in a hushed tone from behind Dean.

Dean glanced over his shoulder and saw a convenience store worker hovering nearby. The rest of the store seemed to be empty of customers. "He's been sick and I think he passed out," Dean explained over his shoulder before returning his full attention to this brother.

He could see Sam's breathing was slow and even but he reached down and grabbed Sam's left wrist feeling for a pulse. A little fast but it eased Dean's concern a bit.

"Time to rise and shine, sunshine," Dean rubbed Sam's back as he tried to coax him awake. He was rewarded when he felt the muscles in Sam's shoulders bunch beneath his hand. Dean reached out and tilted Sam's chin up, satisfied when Sam's eyes blinked open. He carefully grasped Sam's upper arms and pulled him upright. A dazed Sam looked around the store, the color in his face still washed out but not a ghostly white like it had been before Sam's faint.

Dean briefly rested a hand on Sam's shoulder before giving the nape of his neck a quick squeeze before letting it drop to his side. "You okay now?" he asked as he closely watched his brother.

Sam reached forward and clutched Dean's hand giving it an answering squeeze. It could have been 'thanks' or 'I'm okay' but it meant Sam was conscious again. Dean felt relief wash through him but he was still ticked at the situation; Sam obviously shouldn't be up and about and despite his pleas to tag along Dean had known better.

Giving Sam one more look and finding him no worse for the wear he turned his attention to the convenience store worker. "Hi, I'm George Lynch with the Center for Disease Control and I need your help."

Dean smoothly pulled an ID from his pocket, flashed it at the startled worker, and had it back in his pocket within two seconds. He somehow thought his alias as the guitar god from Dokken was safe from this Sid Vicious wannabe.

The worker nervously ran his hand through his spiked red hair and fingered the piercing in his lower lip before answering, "What do you want to talk to me about?"

Dean stood back on his heels and looked down his nose at the attendant. "No need to worry. I'm trying to track down a Dr. Osmond on CDC business, we need his help with an outbreak down south, and our records show he made a purchase here last week. I'm wondering if I could please speak to the person on duty that day. We really need to get in touch with Dr. Osmond and we're pursuing every lead."

Dean's explanation had tripped off his tongue effortlessly. The clerk responded hesitantly after briefly thinking over the request. "Well, um, yeah, sure. Can I ask exactly what kind of outbreak?"

Dean sized up the kid and saw that curiosity was eating him up but he wasn't quite sold on the authenticity of the request. Dean decided he'd go with a repulsive answer to distract him. "Have you heard of Ebola? It's kind of like that only your skin peels away from your body first. Kind of like being eaten from the inside out."

The kid looked impressed, his eyes glowing. "Cool. I mean, that's really gross." He peaked over Dean's shoulder and motioned toward Sam, "He isn't…infected with it, is he?" he asked nervously.

Dean's eyes twinkled with suppressed laughter. "No, he's having problems with a mutant STD strain but he's not contagious."

The clerk's eyes just about bugged out his head. "What was the date and time again? If you'll just follow me, we'll go back to the office and I'll find out who was on duty. We also keep videotape for a week so we might be able to find something for you there."

Dean smiled his thanks, oozing sincerity. "Thank you for your cooperation. The CDC is much obliged for any help you can give us. I'll be right there," he called as the clerk headed toward the back of the store.

He quickly headed toward the front of the store, kneeling in front of his sibling. "Sammy, how are you doing?"

He was greeted with a glare. Sam was aware of his surroundings and apparently had heard what Dean told the clerk because he mouthed 'mutant STD?'

He lightly patted his brother's cheek. "Sorry about that but it's for a good cause. I'm going to go back to the office and hopefully get the information we need and then we'll head for Bobby's."

Dean was halfway through the store when he stopped and turned again, wagging a finger at his brother. "Hey, I want you to stay put right there. No wandering off."

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head in agreement. Dean paused to watch for a moment as Sam crossed his arms, not easy to do with one arm in a cast, and tried to settle more comfortably in the chair. Dean wanted to hurry. His brother was looking pale and drawn and people who passed out should be stretched out, resting, not sitting in hard plastic chairs.

-0-

Sam watched his brother stride toward the back of the store. Dean had given him a look of sympathy which really struck a nerve. Sam didn't want anyone's pity. Not even Dean's. But he was completely reliant on his brother to help him and he couldn't prevent his breath from quickening or his pulse from racing as Dean disappeared around the corner, out of his sight.

Looking out the window he saw the storm approaching with bright flashes of light and heard muted thunder in the distance. The storm was a good distraction from his anxiety.

Distraction turned to confusion when, during one of the flashes, he thought he saw something else at the far edge of the property, past the gas pumps. He squinted his eyes trying to make it out. Two figures were waving at him, inviting him outside.

TBC

A/N: I would be remiss in not thanking two very special people for spurring me on to finish this story. Faye Dartmouth not only supplied the beta for the first two chapters of this story but she contributed the funniest line and held my hand while I hit patch upon patch of writer's block. Then there's Gidgetgal9 who not only provided beta services on the whole story but who saved my bacon by sending me all of the completed chapters so I didn't have to start from scratch when my computer crashed. I feel very lucky to know these two brilliant (and patient) people.


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: The world seems to be conspiring against Sam and Dean. Will they survive the elements, their memories and a certain Yellow Eyed Demon? Conclusion to the They're Here Trilogy (They're Here and We're in for a Bumpy Ride) which are set post ELAC.

A/N: Same note as Chapter 1 – you wouldn't be reading this story without Faye Dartmouth and Gidgetgal9. Oh, and thanks for reading!

Chapter 2

Sam tried to relax in the unyielding chair but he found the two figures outside unsettling.

He tried to focus on something else, jerking his attention back from the window. His brother. He was worried about the stress Dean had been under. He knew Dean was concerned about his health, mental and physical, but Sam sensed there was something else underneath that concern. Unfortunately, Sam's concentration had been affected by his most recent concussion and he had trouble letting Dean know he was worried about him.

He knew Dean was worried about him, too. He'd even said something about taking him back to the hospital. There was no way he was going back to the hospital. Not ever if he had his way. For a moment he'd been scared that Dean was going to follow through on his threat but then he realized his brother was just teasing him, ribbing him about the nurses. He knew there was a story there but he couldn't remember what had happened. And he wasn't sure he wanted to know because it probably involved his humiliation at the hands of one of Dean's conquests. Everywhere they went Dean seemed to collect a harem.

Thunder crashed deafeningly and Sam jumped in the hard, plastic chair. When he glanced outside he saw the same two figures standing on the other side of the gas pumps and they seemed to be waving to him, asking him to join them outside.

Sam fisted his left hand and rubbed first one eye and then the other. He had to be seeing things. He glanced toward the back of the store where Dean had disappeared and thought about trying to find his brother. When he looked outside the wall of glass windows the two figures were closer now.

Sam's jaw dropped open. Two blonds. Motioning him to join them.

Mary and Jessica.

Sam remembered Mary and Jessica visiting him in the psych unit but he thought he'd only dreamed about them because he craved their comfort. But he was out of the hospital, on the way to mending, and he was seeing them again.

Sam watched as both women, dressed in flowing while dresses with their hair whipping in the stiff breeze, approached the front door.

Jessica looked over her shoulder and cringed before turning her full attention to Sam. "Please Sam, you have to follow us."

Jessica implored him from the other side of the door. Her voice was insistent, easily passing through the glass barrier to reach Sam's ears.

Mary looked up at the sky before turning back to stare at Sam. Her plea chimed with equal fervor. "Now Sam. There's no time to lose."

Sam looked toward the back of the store and called to his brother, "Dean!" Only a thin, soft croak passed his lips.

A loud crash of thunder shook the building and drowned out Sam's attempt to get Dean's attention.

When he swiveled his neck back, Jess was silently pounding on the window, in distress. "SAM!"

He couldn't ignore the desperation in her voice and heaved himself to his feet. Dean had told him not to leave but he had to find out if he was imagining this or if Mary and Jess were really here.

Sam lurched toward the door and pushed against it until he staggered out into the air. Big fat drops of rain were starting to fall and he flinched against the cold liquid landing on his face.

Mary's voice rose above the gathering wind. "Over here, Sam. Hurry."

Sam followed as quickly as his damaged body would allow, weaving past the gas pumps, toward the far edge of the parking lot where Mary and Jess stood impatiently.

-0-

Dean, oblivious to Sam's journey outdoors, stood with Rod, the convenience store attendant, who flipped through videocassettes. "You're in luck. This is the oldest tape we've got and it's from the date Dr. Osmond stopped here. Let me cue it up and see what we have."

He popped it into a cassette player attached to a small TV against the office wall. Rod hit the fast forward button and periodically stopped to check the time. "Okay, here we go. We're coming up on the time that was on his debit card receipt. Is this Dr. Osmond?"

The tape showed a man in an expensive suit pushing into the store. Dean nodding his head yes but didn't make a sound as he studied the video. He blinked to clear his eyes when he thought he saw a flash of yellow darting out from Dr. Osmond's eyes. "Could you please show that segment again?"

He was having a hard time believing what his eyes were telling him. Rod played those frames again and Dean watched as Dr. Osmond walked into the store, seemed to glance right at the camera, and then moved farther into the store. Dean saw a flash of yellow at the moment Dr. Osmond looked at the camera. His eyes were yellow.

Dean rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well I'll be damned."

At first he thought it was a shape shifter but those eyes…he was looking at the Yellow Eyed Demon.

Suddenly things started to make sense.

Dr. Osmond had talked Dean into admitting Sam into the sleep study program and had omitted the fact that it was an inpatient psychiatric unit.

Dr. Osmond had either beaten or allowed Sam to be beaten while in the unit.

But why? Dean wasn't certain but he knew it had to do with Sam and his abilities and this destiny the Yellow Eyed Demon had been yammering about when it had taken over their dad's body.

One thought raced through Dean's mind. Sam wasn't safe.

Dean pumped Rod's hand twice before heading out the door. "Thanks, Rod. You've been a tremendous help."

He had to get to Sam.

Dean threw up his hands to cover his eyes as a blinding flash of light cut through the air to land just outside of the door. The flash coincided with another deafening crash of thunder. Dean realized that the lightening was coming perilously close to the gas pumps and screamed out his brother's name, "SAMMY!"

Too late. In a matter of seconds the lightning had ignited some gasoline pooled on the ground and fire quickly made its way toward the gas pumps.

There was a moment of silence that was quickly replaced with a loud whooshing noise; the gas pumps exploded outward and upward, propelling twisted metal toward the glass front of the building. Glass shattered as metal screeched into the building with the speed of a bullet. Fire licked on the heels of the metal and instantly the front of the store was covered in flames.

Dean was thrown to his hands and knees as the building shuttered under the fiery onslaught.

"SAMMY. NO!!!" Dean screamed at the top of his lungs as he fought to gain his footing.

Rushing headlong into the inferno he tried to fight his way toward his brother but a secondary explosion ripped through the front of the building, sweeping Dean off his feet and slamming him into the back of the store.

"Sammy…" Dean whispered as he lay torn and broken against the back wall. He tumbled into unconsciousness as his body was unable to resist the damage the explosion had wrought.

-0-

Sam was trembling as he staggered after Mary and Jess. They remained just out of his reach, beckoning him forward.

Unable to keep up the pace, Sam stopped and turned around to face the front of the store. Maybe Dean was finished. Maybe Dean could help him make sense of this waking vision.

Even before Sam could take a step toward the building a crack of lightning zigzagged through the air and hit the pavement by the gas pumps. Sam's brain struggled to make sense of what he was seeing and it seemed like forever before his legs would obey the commands his brain finally stuttered out. RUN!

Sam pivoted back around toward Mary and Jessica. He'd barely made it one step when he heard the telltale sound of the gasoline igniting in a whoosh. He was picked up and tossed around like a doll, landing heavily in the grassy knoll behind the apparitions in white. Sam was deeply unconscious before he even hit the ground and tumbled down into a culvert.

The storm, having spent its energy in such a calamitous fashion, quickly moved on from the gas station. Fire crackled menacingly in the storefront. Thunder could still be heard booming in the distance as sirens wailed a plaintive song of distress.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Summary: The world seems to be conspiring against Sam and Dean. Will they survive the elements, their memories and a certain Yellow Eyed Demon? Conclusion to the They're Here Trilogy (They're Here and We're in for a Bumpy Ride) which are set post ELAC.

Chapter 3

He could hear a faint chirping noise that kept getting louder as he rose out of unconsciousness. The sound intensified the pounding in his tender head.

He slowly became aware of general discomfort throughout his body. Every large muscle group ached. His hands and forearms tingled. Something pinched the skin on the inside of his right elbow. Mild pressure thrummed against his left index finger. His nostrils twitched in irritation as something hard rubbed the tissue raw.

He braced himself before squinting his eyes open. Light filtered past his eyelashes and assaulted his brain. He turned his head to escape the brightness and his eyesight slowly came into focus. Someone was sitting next to his bed.

He tried to moisten his dry lips. "Sammy? That you?"

That someone stood up and towered over his bed. He blinked his eyes, trying to clear his vision. "Just relax, Dean. I'll keep watch over you."

Bobby. He'd recognize that low, raw voice anywhere.

Dean was crushed. He wanted to see his brother. Instead Bobby was hovering over him with concern apparent in his crinkled brow while he twisted his baseball cap in a wringing motion with both hands.

He closed his eyes as exhaustion flooded through him.

-0-

The first thing he noticed was that he was soaked through. Misery penetrated deeply, burrowing into his bones, shivers racking his body.

He was lying prone on the mushy ground with his right cheek pressed tightly into the mud.

He could barely hear the traffic whirring close by through the relentless pounding in his head. Nausea churned fast and hard while bile climbed first into his throat and then mouth. He rocked and pushed off his arms in an effort to raise his body. The motion was abruptly halted as his right arm blazed with blinding pain. He collapsed back onto the soft ground and curled onto his left side while his stomach clenched and purged.

His stomach finally settled enough to try moving again. Moisture drained from his nose and eyes as he flipped onto his back.

He tried to catch his breath. His ribs ached from the abuse of emptying his stomach while the blood pounded through his ears in time to his heartbeat. He was still faint and nauseous but he needed to get off the damp ground. He rolled onto his knees cautiously, folding his right arm tightly against his stomach. He blearily noticed a white, chalky residue smeared across the appendage.

He gathered his strength before lurching to his feet. The weak sunshine pounded angrily into his eyes as he staggered up an incline toward the sounds coming from the road.

Something large hurtled at him from his left side and he barely had time to raise his left hand up to protect his face as a strong rush of air pushed him back. He tumbled backward, unable to regain his balance and landed on a hard, unforgiving surface. He was grateful for the reprieve from pain when he blacked out.

-0-

Dean was curled on his side, eyes clenched shut in denial.

Bobby shuffled his feet awkwardly. "I'm sorry, Dean. There's been no sign of your brother. The forensics team is combing through the wreckage to find evidence of S…well, evidence that would help us figure out what happened to the boy."

Bobby's voice was low and mournful. And the way he pussyfooted around his words sounded like pity to Dean's sensitive ears.

Dean couldn't stand it. He didn't need anyone's pity. Sam wasn't dead. He'd know, somehow, if his brother had died.

Bobby cleared his voice. "I do have some good news. I had the Chevy towed to my place and it looks like the damage is pretty much cosmetic. I'll probably have it fixed up by the time you get out of here."

Good news. Good news would be having a plan to find Sam. Sure, he loved the Impala but the wheels paled in comparison to his brother. Not that he would ever tell his brother that. He didn't want Sammy getting a big head.

He kept his eyes closed and submitted to the awkward pat on his shoulder by the man who had self appointed himself Dean's guardian in his time of need. He was grateful for the support but what he really needed was someone who would help him find Sam.

Someone who thrilled at a challenge. Someone who had the equipment and know how to be really useful in tracking down obscure leads. Someone who also cared for Sam.

Ash.

He rolled over, careful not to put pressure on his forearms as he stretched for the telephone on the night stand next to his bed.

-0-

Gentle but insistent hands rolled him over onto to his back. Startled, his eyes snapped open and he found curious but compassionate brown eyes staring down at him. He didn't recognize the tall, red headed man sitting back on his heels next to him.

He felt blind panic well up, bile building in his throat, threatening to choke him. He not only didn't know the man staring at him but he also had no idea who he himself was. His own name was a blank.

He saw the man's lips moving but he couldn't understand a word he was saying. Maybe the man was speaking a different language. If he concentrated with all his energy he still couldn't figure out what he wanted; he only noticed a loud ringing in his ears.

The man grabbed him around the upper arms and tugged him upright. He couldn't suppress a gasp as pain shot through his right arm. Dark spots invaded his vision and he felt himself sag into the stranger. A strong arm wrapped around his waist. His thoughts scattered as he was drawn forward.

-0-

Dean impatiently cursed the burns on his arms and the persistent throb at the back of his head. He needed to get out of the hospital and start looking for Sam but he couldn't even dress himself right now. And Bobby, the traitor, refused to help him.

At least Ash was on board. He'd agreed to start searching the surrounding area via his trusty laptop for anyone resembling Sam's description.

Ash had been subdued as Dean had described the pyrotechnics at the gas station and Sam's disappearance. Maybe he'd underestimated Ash. He wasn't a shallow tech geek, interested only in playing with his toys. He wanted to help Sam.

And now Dean was at the mercy of Bobby. He couldn't go out and actively search for his brother unless Bobby helped him into his clothes and out of the hospital.

He tried to turn his puppy dog eyes on Bobby but he couldn't pull it off; Bobby remained steadfast in his refusal. "Dammit, Dean, you were unconscious for two days. Two days! And those are second degree burns we're talking about. The doctor said you're at risk for infection. Just slow down a minute, would you?"

Dean wasn't stupid. He knew second degree burns were only life threatening if they became infected. The blisters were painful but that's why there were good drugs. His head was a different story. He knew he wasn't operating at full speed but he couldn't slow down. "I can't. Sam is somewhere out there and I need to find him."

It was hard to put into words just how badly he needed to find his brother. He'd wanted a few moments to himself, just a small break from all of the drama surrounding his brother, and now that his wish had been granted he was lost. He simply needed to find Sam or he would go insane.

-0-

He blinked his eyes awake as the semi truck rolled to a stop. He didn't know where he was but he didn't feel safe. He threw open the heavy passenger door and tried to make an escape but he was held down, immobile. He struggled against his bonds in vain, panting with exertion.

The large, red-headed man loomed next to him as he appeared in the open door. He reached up and over and efficiently hit a latch so that he was free. He tilted forward at a crazy angle but the man was there to steady him. He pulled his legs out of the truck and grasping him around the waist, helped him slide onto the ground. "Easy, son. I've got you."

He startled as he heard the stranger's deep, rumbling voice. The man raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Can you hear me?"

He opened his mouth and tried to speak but no sound emerged. He raised his left hand and indicated a little. He could understand the red-haired man but his voice wasn't very loud and he had to strain to hear him.

He stood there swaying, light headed. The man easily dwarfed him but he no longer felt threatened. This was reinforced when the man spoke again. "You can call me Red. What's your name?"

He racked his brain but he was still drawing a blank. He felt lost and alone. And then Red was speaking to him again and he felt a little better. "Don't worry about it, I think I'll call you Nick until we can get things sorted out."

Nick. It didn't sound right but he'd grab on to anything right now to keep from drowning in his unease. "Come on Nick, I want to introduce you to someone. I think he can help you out."

And with that Nick found himself being pulled toward the back entrance of a restaurant. He was too tired and dizzy to fight it and found his feet shuffling after Red.

-0-

Dean was staring up at the white ceiling. His vision blurred as moisture flooded his eyes. The doctors told him to rest but he couldn't. He just knew Sam wasn't dead. He was out there. Alone. And he needed Dean.

His cell phone rang and Dean awkwardly retrieved it from the tray table. It was Ash. "Please, give me some good news."

There was a pause and a long sigh. "I'm sorry, Dean. Nada. I've checked the hospitals and clinics in a sixty mile radius and I'm coming up snake eyes. But I'm no quitter and I'm just getting started. I'll keep you posted."

Dean disconnected the call without saying anything further. He was crushed. It had already been two days since his brother went missing and he was slowly losing his mind.

He threw his legs over the edge of the bed and waited for the dizziness to pass. Doubt and pain hammered at him and he found himself folded over at the waist, his head hanging down. He didn't know what to do anymore. But it was up to him to keep his brother safe and so far he'd failed miserably.

A hand awkwardly patted the back of his shoulder. He automatically stiffened, ashamed that he hadn't heard someone enter his room. "Come on, Dean. Let me give you a hand."

Bobby had returned. He couldn't keep the belligerence out of his voice and it shook with frustration as he glared at the older man. "Are you going to help me find Sam?"

The older man took his baseball cap off and scratched at the top of his head. "Um, well, you know I'll do what I can. But how 'bout we get you settled first?"

Dean could see dark shadows under Bobby's baggy, red eyes. Bobby really believed his brother was gone and was mourning him.

Dean refused to give up hope. The alternative was too painful to contemplate.

-0-

Red had introduced him to a pleasant blond man named Dan, owner of Danny Boy's Diner, and manager of the local homeless shelter located down the road. He wasn't sure why Red thought Dan could help him but he didn't have any options.

He tried to listen as the two men bantered but his head ached and his vision was blurring. He forced his eyes opened and blinked as his confused mind tried to follow the conversation. Dan caught him staring and in response he smiled more widely which exposed white, pearly teeth and made his eyes crinkle in the corners. He resembled someone.

He closed his eyes and tried to picture another blond man. Short hair. Wide smile. Jovial. His mind was a blank, gaping maw where the memory should have been. The conversation swirled around him, breaking his concentration.

Red's deep voice boomed so loudly he jumped. His ears perked up as he heard his name. "I decided on Nick. Just look at him! He's a tall, good looking kid. Might be deaf. Definitely mute. You know, just like in The Stand."

Dan shook his head with affection, his blue eyes twinkling. "Red, you're incorrigible. Next thing you'll be telling me this kid is some kind of psychic sent here to save us. But as a favor to you, I'll take young Nick under my wing and see what I can do for him."

Nick. He still didn't think that was right. But he lacked the ability to deal with it and quietly acquiesced. His energy was completely tapped out and he was left swaying in place.

He heard Dan barking out orders as if from afar in a tone that brooked no argument. To look at the man he wouldn't have guessed he had it in him.

And then he was floating, suspended in midair. Someone was holding him. He recognized Red's voice next to his ear just before his mind snapped off. "You want him in the single room with the lock?"

TBC

A/N: Many thanks again to Gidgetgal9. She has a very creative mind and was invaluable in helping me figure out the direction of this story.


	4. Chapter 4

Summary: The world seems to be conspiring against Sam and Dean. Will they survive the elements, their memories and a certain Yellow Eyed Demon? Conclusion to the They're Here Trilogy (They're Here and We're in for a Bumpy Ride) which are set post ELAC.

Chapter 4

He blinked his eyes open and stared into the darkness. He was lying on a lumpy mattress but the scent of clean bedding filled his nostrils.

He shivered slightly despite the mound of blankets covering him. He was still in his damp jeans and t-shirt which chafed uncomfortably.

His head ached but he tried to think past the pain and remember what had happened. Red had brought him here. Wherever here was.

The aptly named Red and his friend, Dan, had cared enough to help him to the room. They'd helped him take his shoes off and then he'd fallen asleep.

The street light outside of his window lit the room with a mellow glow. He levered himself up on his elbows and hissed as his right arm throbbed in protest. Pushing off with his left arm, he staggered to his feet. He clumsily made his way to the window and pulled the scratchy cotton drapes back to peer outside. He was on the second floor, overlooking a parking lot.

His eyes sought out the door and he gingerly picked his way across the small wood planked floor to try the knob. It rattled in his hand but didn't open. Someone had locked him in.

He tipped his head forward until it lightly banged the door, resting his weight against it. He didn't blame them for locking him up. He couldn't tell them who he was, he didn't know, so how could he expect them to trust him? But knowing that didn't ease the panic filtering through him. He didn't like being stuck in some random room, at someone else's mercy.

His knees gave way without warning and he found himself sliding down the door to rest in an uncomfortable jumble of arms and legs. He drew in his limbs and shivered in the cool darkness. Exhausted and in pain, he let sleep claim him again as he huddled on the hard floor.

-0-

Dean felt betrayed. Bobby had sprung him from the hospital but had insisted on taking him back to his place to recuperate. But it was his body that had let him down the most. He couldn't muster the effort to even walk across the floor to the door. At this rate he'd never find Sam.

Sam. He just knew his brother was out there, injured and alone, waiting for Dean to find him and bring him home.

He'd checked in with Ash shortly after Bobby had escorted him inside. Disheartened at the lack of news he'd collapsed on the living room couch. Depression settled over him, thick as a wool blanket, while he tried to sort out his next move.

A boot roughly nudged his foot. "Soup is on the table."

Dean shook his head. "Not hungry."

He heard a rough sigh and glanced up to find Bobby standing before him, arms crossed implacably across his chest. "My house. My rules. Eat. You're not gonna do anyone a lick of good if you fall flat on your face from lack of food."

His appetite rarely deserted him but in this instance the thought of food made his stomach roll. But his common sense reasserted itself. The old coot was right. He couldn't find Sam if he passed out, faint from hunger and dehydration. And Sam was counting on him.

-0-

He woke to the feeling that he wasn't alone. He was curled up on the hard wood floor next to the door. He remembered trying the door and freaking out when he'd found it locked. Spikes of sharp pain bludgeoned the left side of his head and his muscles were cramped.

He heard footsteps followed by the lock tumbling open. The door swung in and then someone cursed. "Dammit, where did he go? The lock seemed excessive but maybe not if he can pull a Houdini like this."

He recognized Dan's voice. He had a kind face and had been nice last night but he was definitely pissed off today. The door collided sharply with his shin as Dan pushed further into the room. "Nick!"

He was in no shape to deal with anyone, especially someone who was angry, so he played 'possum, keeping his eyes closed.

His head was straightened so his neck was no longer crooked at an odd angle. A warm hand touched his forehead. "Red didn't say you were sick. Banged up, looked like someone had used you for a punching bag. But not sick."

A finger traced his sore cheek before his t-shirt was rucked away from his neck and then quickly flattened back against his skin. "Hey buddy. How'd you get those bruises. Nick?"

Dan didn't sound angry anymore so he cracked his eyes open and stared back. His benefactor was crouched down next him, weight back on his heels, face pensive. Dan's face shifted to a wide smile when he saw his eyes open. "Come on, let's get you up off the floor."

The blond held his hand out and waited patiently for him to take it. When he grasped it with his left hand, Dan tugged him up to a sitting position. He could hear his heartbeat whooshing in his ears as black specks invaded his vision. "Oh, no, you don't. No passing out on my watch."

One hand tipped his head forward while the other steadied his shoulder. He lifted his head up when the noise receded in his ears and things stopped dipping and spinning. The hand patted his shoulder. "Easy there, big fellow. How about we move you over to the bed. It might not be the best mattress in the world but I think you'll find it more comfortable than the floor."

Before he could protest, he was hauled up and guided to the bed. He was settled against the pillows arranged hastily between his back and the rickety headboard. "Just relax. I'm going to get some food. You must be starving."

He wasn't hungry. He was tired. He closed his eyes against his better judgment and was startled when he heard Dan's voice. "Listen, ah, Nick. I think maybe you need the hospital. I'm going to pull the car around front and then I'll help you out."

His eyes sprang open and his body jumped. No hospital. He violently shook his head. His heart rate kicked up, his pulse beating wildly at his throat.

He didn't understand it but he knew he would fight tooth and nail before he would submit to going back to a hospital.

He was lost in thought as he tried to remember being in the hospital. His head pounded as his brain was assaulted with a flash of memory; a blond, wiry man sitting in a room with him. He tried to pull more details out but they slipped from his grasp. He just had the sensation of being terrified. Not in control.

Insistent hands tugged him down and settled him more comfortable on the bed before the covers were drawn up. "Okay, no hospital. At least not now. Just rest."

He tumbled asleep so quickly he didn't see the frown marring Dan's face or hear him speak. "Who are you and what the hell happened to you?"

-0-

Dean shoveled the chicken noodle soup down his throat even though it tasted like ash in his mouth. He knew Bobby was right in that he needed to keep his strength up. Once he found Sam he was going to have his hands full with little time to rest.

Sam had turned into such a studious adult but Dean still felt like he was chasing after toddler Sam who got into everything. Watching out for his brother was exhausting. And satisfying. He missed him.

He'd endured as much of the soup as he could before pushing the bowl away from him. Bobby slapped a couple of blue capsules down in front of him before clearing the table. "Here, these are for the pain. If you're going to help me canvas the downtown with pictures of Sam, you'd better take them."

Dean eyeballed the capsules and watched Bobby's back as he stacked dishes in the sink. He didn't want to be out of it but there was no denying his head and arms were hurting him. He quickly swallowed the capsules down before second guessing himself.

One moment he was watching Bobby zip around the kitchen and the next he was zoning out. A hand on his shoulder startled him. "Hey, do you have a recent picture of Sam?"

Dean shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs away. "Um, yeah. I've got one on my cell phone."

He actually had lots of pictures of Sam on his phone. He didn't know if he'd crossed the line into creepy but he liked snapping pictures of his brother. Especially when he snuck up on him and caught him unaware. Sam hated surprises.

Dean stifled a yawn and slouched down further in the chair. Bobby was moving around in the background again.

He must have nodded off because he felt a warm hand at the back of his neck. "Stubborn Winchesters. You never know when to slow down. Let's get you settled on the couch."

Dean struggled to pry his eyes open and barely managed to shuffle his feet along at Bobby's prodding. He was lowered to the couch and an afghan was draped over him.

He didn't want to sleep. He wanted to find Sam.

Screwing his face up into a frown required all of his efforts and he was soon drifting asleep.

-0-

He inched his eyes opened. Weak sunlight was streaming into the room past the worn, green cotton drapes. The brightness hurt his head and he quickly turned his head away.

He was sprawled on his back, buried beneath the mountain of blankets. He no longer shivered and his muscles were no longer cramped. Improvement.

He spied a glass of water on the night stand next to his bed. He was hot and thirsty. Leaning over he made a grab for it with his left hand and misjudged the distance. Everything tilted and he found himself tumbling out of the bed, cracking his already sore cheek on the edge of the night stand on his way down to the wood floor.

He lay in a tangle of bedding, stunned. It wasn't the most comfortable position to be in but he was pretty certain he'd been in worse. He drifted off, his sore cheek snuggled against the flooring, his thirst forgotten.

TBC

A/N: You've now read a third of the story. Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Summary: The world seems to be conspiring against Sam and Dean. Will they survive the elements, their memories and a certain Yellow Eyed Demon? Conclusion to the They're Here Trilogy (They're Here and We're in for a Bumpy Ride) which are set post ELAC.

Chapter 5

A large hand lightly slapped his face. A loud, deep voice boomed in his ear. "Nick! You in there!"

He recognized the voice of Red. He forced his eyes open and met the concerned gaze of the kind trucker who had given him a ride. He was still a little hazy about where exactly Red had brought him.

He felt vulnerable and exposed as he craned his neck to look up at the tall man. He tried to lever himself up but the pain in his right arm brought him up short and he collapsed gracelessly back onto the unforgiving floor bumping his head in the process.

Before he could move he was bundled up, bedding and all, against Red's broad chest and placed back on the bed. "For such a big guy, you sure are a light weight. And you sleep a lot. Don't you think it's about time you got up and started earning your keep?"

He couldn't tell if Red was teasing him or not but he nodded his head in agreement. He wasn't looking for a free ride. At least he didn't think that was the case.

Red snapped his fingers in front of his face, claiming his attention. "I put some clean clothes and toiletries in the bathroom at the end of the hall. Shower off and then come downstairs. I need to hit the road again but I told Dan you'd help him with the afternoon rush."

The large man left the room as he struggled to untangle his feet and get out of bed. Other than the persistent throb in his right arm and his pounding head he was definitely feeling better. He was looking forward to getting cleaned up. He didn't know how much help he could offer but both Dan and Red had been patient and he wanted to repay their kindness.

-0-

First Nick scrubbed his teeth clean and then he'd hopped into a hot shower to wash away the mud and blood. He was a mess.

After repeated soaping and shampooing he was forced to rinse off and leave the comforts of the hot water behind or risk getting chilled in the rapidly cooling water.

He was toweling off when he was overcome with dizziness and had to brace a hand against the wall. _Hey Princess, if you're not out in two minutes I'm leaving your water logged, bony ass behind. Capisce?_

He listened at the door but didn't hear anyone. Was he hearing things? Maybe he was crazy.

Crazy and a mute. He wasn't even sure he was mute but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't force enough sound past his sore throat to be heard.

He smiled in appreciation of how Red had taken to calling him Nick. He remembered the character from the cheesy Stephen King novel. Actually the novel had been pretty good but the made-for-TV miniseries was something else.

How could he remember a novel and TV movie but not know his own name? The more he thought on it the more his head ached.

He quickly finished dressing, hung the towel on the back of the door to dry, and deposited his dirty clothes in a neat stack in his room. The clean jeans were too long as well as too big around the waist. He did his best to roll the jeans above the battered and mud splattered shoes, the one thing that had been salvaged from his time before Red found him, but he didn't have a chance of keeping the jeans up around his waist where they belonged. He tugged the flannel shirt down in the hopes it would prevent him from mooning Dan's customers.

He carefully made his way down the hallway toward the stairs. He was about to face the lunch rush.

-0-

Dan threw an apron at him and he deftly caught it in his left hand. "Time to suit up. You ever bussed tables before?"

Nick looked blankly at the man as he searched his mind. He had no idea if he'd bussed tables before but at least he knew what it meant. He shrugged into the apron and loosely wound it around his waist before fumbling to tie it in the front.

Dan brushed his hands aside and tied it for him. "Are you sure you're up to this? This morning I thought you needed a hospital but Red said you wanted to help out."

He nodded his head, his lips turning up in a brief smile. He did want to help out but Red hadn't really given him a choice.

Dan smiled back and began patiently describing what he needed him to do. He struggled to pay attention but he just couldn't focus. A brown, plastic bin was slapped into his left hand. He hastily grabbed on to it to keep it from falling to the floor.

There were several tables that needed to be cleared. Nick approached the first empty one he saw and wedged the tub between his right hip and sore arm before he began gathering dishes, glasses and cutlery with his good hand. It was a slow process but he managed not to break anything and even remembered to swab off the tables with the wet cloth he'd found on the bottom of the bin.

The weight of the dishes pulled on his arm and he tried to adjust the burden more comfortably but it wasn't working. He rested the tub on the clean table before shifting it onto to his left side. His right arm still throbbed but at least he wasn't worrying about dropping the tub with his useless arm.

He wove around the customers, adroitly avoiding collisions, on his way back to the kitchen area. He didn't have any memory of working in a restaurant but it was honest work and almost more than he could handle at the moment.

-0-

Dean was startled awake as the front door slammed. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and tensed, on alert, until Bobby walked into the living room with his arms full of paper.

He stretched against the pillows and wished for some coffee. "Hey, Bobby. What you got there?"

Bobby threw a paper next to Dean. It floated down to nestle on the cushion next to Dean. He gingerly picked it up, mindful of his healing burns, and saw a smiling Sam looking up at him.

It was a great picture because it captured the outer Sam: His freakish height, his rangy build covered by layers of shirts, his wavy mop of dark hair, the ease with which he faced the world with a confident smile on his face. But it didn't tell the whole story; it didn't capture his compassionate nature, the way he soldiered on in the face of adversity, his intuitive mind and the way his brain was crammed full of information.

Dean appreciated Bobby's effort in making up flyers with Sam's picture and Bobby's cell phone number as the contact. Bobby was pulling his weight, now he needed to do the same. He pushed himself to his feet, eager to get started. "That's perfect, Bobby. Thanks. Let's split up and canvas the town with them."

Bobby frowned and then shook his head as if he decided it wasn't worth it. "The Impala isn't ready to roll yet so we'll have to take my truck. I was thinking we could hit some of the truck stops since the gas station is close to the interstate. Maybe someone passing by saw something that can help us."

A burst of hope blossomed in Dean's chest. Sam was still alive and assuming the Yellow Eyed Demon didn't have him, someone must have helped his brother. And he admitted, Sam still had that something about him that made people want to take care of him and help him. He was betting his life on it.

-0-

The restaurant had mostly cleared out with only a hand full of booths still occupied. Nick cleared the last table and pushed into the kitchen area, hefting the brown tub over to the industrial strength dish washer and loading it efficiently.

He stood up and admired his work. Not bad for working with one hand. His musing was interrupted as pain streaked through his head. The tub clattered to the floor as he clapped both hands around each side of his head. The pain stole his breath away and he found himself staggering back in attempt to escape the pain.

A hand grabbed his left shoulder and guided him back until his legs bumped against a chair and he was lowered to a sitting position. He leaned over, folding his bad arm against his middle, his left hand still clutching at his head.

Pictures rocketed through his mind. _A girl on the ceiling, bleeding as fire erupted around her. Liquid spilled __from a Styrofoam cup __as a dark haired man lay still and silent on a tiled floor.__ Yellow__ eyes, mocking__. The same blond man he remembered __sitting before him as he bucked against the constraints of __his straight jacket._

Memories? Nightmares? He wasn't sure but the last "vision" seemed to ring true. He was pretty sure this guy had him committed and he'd been restrained in a psych unit. He shuddered at the thought.

The pain eased up in small increments until he heard Dan talking to him. "Easy, Nick. Just relax. I knew you weren't ready for this."

He straightened up and saw Dan, short blond hair and white teeth flashing, before pulling back with a gasp. The guy in his vision had looked a lot like this. He wasn't going back to the hospital. Never again. And Dan had threatened to take him to the hospital. His breathing came in quick bursts and his heart rate increased. He needed to get out of here.

Dan stepped back and gave him some room. "It's okay. No one is going to hurt you. Do you think you can make it upstairs? I think you'll feel better if you can rest for a while."

He looked at Dan doubtfully. Maybe he'd given his trust too easily.

He slumped wearily in the chair, his breathing slowing to a more manageable rate. He didn't want Dan's help but he didn't have a choice. He wasn't strong enough to leave on his own. He couldn't even raise himself up out of the chair without help.

_Everything is hopeless _he thought as Dan eased him to a standing position and marched him to the stairs.

-0-

Dean stood back and watched Bobby charm the waitresses at the truck stop in town. They'd already visited some other greasy spoons on their way here without luck. He couldn't explain the disappointment he felt at not turning up any leads. But here he had a spark of hope as Bobby poured it on. He never would have pegged him as a ladies' man but the waitresses were falling all over themselves as he called them "darlin'."

One of the waitresses, a tall blond called Tricia, led Bobby and Dean back to the corner booth. "This is Duke. Duke, honey, didn't you say you saw someone over by the gas station after it blew up?"

Duke, small and wiry, barely paused while stuffing his meatloaf into his mouth. Between loud slurps from his ice tea he answered Tricia. "You want to check with Red. I saw him pulled over just before the entrance ramp and I think he was helping someone into his truck."

Dean couldn't believe it. This was too easy. He held up the picture of Sam. "Please, can you tell me if this was the guy you saw?"

Duke shoved his clean plate away and turned his attention to the picture. He frowned before looking at the smiling Tricia next to him. "The guy had dark hair but I couldn't tell you if he was tall or not. He was all bent over."

Dean zoned out as he heard Bobby asking Tricia where to find this Red. If this trucker had seen Sam then it sounded as though he was in a bad way. And it was Dean's fault. He should have made sure Sam was safe.

TBC

A/N: Same as previous chapters (thanks Gidgetgal9!). If you're still reading, thanks!


	6. Chapter 6

Summary: I think you've seen enough on previous chapters so I'll skip it this time.

A/N: Continued thanks to Gidgetgal9 for her plotting expertise and patient beta work as well as Faye Dartmouth for putting up with me in general when I go through month after month of writer's block.

Chapter 6

Exhaustion weighed down Nick's feet as he struggled to reach the second floor. He could feel a supportive arm wrapped around his waist; Dan kept him balanced as they staggered up the back stairwell. He didn't want Dan's help but was useless to stop him.

He was suddenly pushed down onto the lumpy mattress and he let his eyes drift shut. Nick knew closing his eyes was a bad idea; he didn't know Dan, not really, and shouldn't trust him.

And then he was alone when he heard the door snick shut. His head was still pounding with the after effects of a king sized migraine and he forced his muscles to relax.

It didn't take long before the "memories" assaulted him again. He flinched and cringed as the tableau before him played out against the backdrop of his shut eyelids.

First he was stretched out on an exam table while the blond guy who reminded him of Dan talked to him. Something about not being well and needing help. That scene quickly shifted to a white room with no furniture. Dizziness swirled around him and he tried to clutch at his head but his arms were wrapped awkwardly around his torso. Through slitted eyes he made out white pads on the floor and walls. A padded cell…

_Someone touched his left cheek and called to him again, "Come on…Don't make me do a sternum rub on you. You know those hurt like a bitch."_

_His eye twitched and then sprang open. Someone was leaning over him. Was it Asher?_

_He began to rock backward away from whoever was in the room with him. His breaths came out in great gasps as he tried to get away._

_His body was lashed up tight and his bruised body refused to listen. He flopped onto his back like an exposed turtle and shivered._

_"I'm going to get you out of here." The blond man reached forward but he pulled in on himself, trying to avoid his touch._

_He heard his own voice, __horse__ and__ broken voice, __call out__, "No. Leave me alone."_

_He just wanted this nightmare to be over._

_"__Shhh… __it's__ Dean. I don't want them to hear us." The man, Dean, grabbed Sam's hand and painfully squeezed it._

Sam stopped struggling. The face had a name.

Dean.

This was the person who had put him here. In a padded cell. In a straight jacket.

Nick snapped upright as the adrenaline surged through his body, a scream dying on his lips. This Dean person had institutionalized him. And there was someone named Asher involved. Just thinking of the name Asher left him shivering in fear. Something really bad had gone down.

But the thought of that name, Dean, left him feeling disappointed. Betrayed.

Pain surrounded him. The pounding in his head didn't even match the ache in his heart. He struggled into a sitting position and put his head down on his bent knees. He wanted so badly to cry, to let the feelings out, but he didn't have the energy. He could only breathe in and out as the feelings crashed around him.

-0-

Bobby pulled the truck up across the street from Danny Boy's and let it idle. "Are you sure about this?" Bobby drawled patiently.

Dean closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to center himself. He knew it wasn't likely that he'd walk into the restaurant and find Sam waiting for him to take him home but this trucker was the first solid lead they'd had and he was relying heavily on it panning out. "I'll give this one a try. I doubt if Red is here right now but at least I can find out when he's due back."

A warm hand settled on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked at Bobby. The older man was frowning as he opened his mouth to say something, snapped it shut, and then shook his head. "I'll be right here, waiting for you."

Dean slid out of the truck and planted his feet on the pavement, rolling the tension out of his shoulders. He was so focused on finding his brother that his burns and exhaustion were secondary, mild irritants. He slammed the door truck door shut and checked for oncoming traffic before jogging across the street. Anxiety was bubbling within him and he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

He paused inside the threshold of the diner to get his bearings. His gaze took in the brightly lit, clean place before they zoomed in on a waitress. "Sit anywhere you want, honey," was thrown in his direction so he further surveyed the almost empty room before moving back to an open stool at the counter next to the kitchen door.

Before he could even ask for anything, a mug of hot coffee was set before him. "Drink up, you look like you could use it. Anything else I can get for you or do you need a few moments?" The auburn haired waitress, Sue, smiled at him from behind the counter.

Dean had to work at it but he made his face relax into a smile. He needed to charm this girl into giving him some information. As much as he wanted, he couldn't barrel in and demand answers from this Red. "This is a nice place. Worked here long?"

Sue smiled back and leaned over to rest her forearms on the counter. "It seems like I've worked here forever. But Dan is a great boss. He's not all about the money like some of those restaurant chains."

Dean didn't think this conversation was helping him in his quest to find Sam but he knew he had to be patient and bide his time. "Sounds like a swell guy."

He cringed internally at his lackluster response but it didn't seem to faze Sue. "Dan used to operate a homeless shelter upstairs but he had to give it up because of some stupid building code. Now he manages one down the street. He's always doing things to help other people. He's a real sweetie."

Dean took a sip of the brew in front of him and felt the warmth spread down his throat into his stomach. A do-gooder. Interesting. "That sucks. It seems like the government is always screwing with a good thing. So does Dan live on the premises?"

Sue topped off his coffee. "Oh, no. He's got a house. The upstairs has been empty for a couple of years now. But listen to me prattle on. I must be boring you to tears."

Dean took another sip of the strong coffee. It was just the way he liked it. If nothing else, Dan knew his coffee. "Oh, no. I'm naturally curious. But I did stop in here because I'm trying to get in touch with Red. Do you know when he's due back?"

The petite waitress didn't even blink a heavily mascara-ed eye. She tottered over to the swinging door on her ridiculously high heels and peered into the kitchen before screaming, "Dan!" at the top of her lungs.

Dean noted that the few remaining patrons in the diner flinched at the loud, unladylike bellow.

There was a pause and then the doors swung open revealing a compactly built blond man. "Jesus, Sue. How can someone so small be so loud?"

Sue batted her eyelashes at Dean in mock flirtation before responding. "I've told you before, Dan, good things come in small packages. But that's not why I called you. This handsome young man is trying to contact Red and I thought you might know when he's due back."

Dan rolled his eyes at Sue's comment about small packages before turning his attention to Dean. "Red's on the road and I'm not sure when he's due back. If it's about a job I can pass a message on to him for you. He usually checks in with me in the evenings."

Dean sized up the man in front of him and decided that he'd trust him with the real reason he was looking for Red. There was something inherently decent about this man and accustomed to making snap judgments, Dean decided he'd get farther with the direct approach. "I heard that Red may have picked up someone the other day by the gas station off of the interstate. My brother is missing and I think Red may have given him a lift somewhere. I need to talk to Red about it."

He watched as Dan's easy, smiling countenance shifted to a frown and his body language closed up with arms crossed tightly over his chest. "Red isn't in the habit of picking up strangers but if you want to leave your number I'd be happy to give it to Red."

Dean's heart rate kicked up a notch. Dan knew something. He pulled a crumpled up flyer out of his pocket and held up for Dan to see. "Please, I know you don't have any reason to trust me but I need to find my brother, Sam. He was injured recently and I'm worried about him."

Dan's face pulled back into a tight smile. "I'm sorry, there's no one here by that name. Now if you want me to pass a message on to Red I can do that but I don't know anything about this Sam."

Dean knew the man was lying. A large thump sounded directly overhead and he watched in fascination as Dan's face melted from controlled anger to concern. He glanced over his shoulder at the swinging door and then back at Dean. "If you want to leave your information with Sue, I'll get it to Red. Otherwise you'll have to excuse me now."

Without giving Dean a chance to respond, he glided through the swinging door. Dean pushed himself to his feet after a few seconds and followed Dan into the kitchen area. The appliances gleamed from someone's meticulous attention but the room was devoid of staff. Dean searched out the corners of the room and noticed an alcove tucked into one corner. He stepped into it and found a staircase. No one had stopped him so far and he wasn't leaving until he had some answers. He stalked up the stairs and followed Dan's voice.

Stopping in the hallway outside of an open doorway, Dean paused before glancing into the room. He saw Dan standing before someone, speaking in a hushed voice. Someone who was tall and thin. "Sammy?!"

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Dean skidded across the hardwood floor into the sparse room, his eyes locked on the tall, gaunt man before him. Dan whirled around at the sound of a voice calling Sam's name but Dean was barely aware of the other man's presence as he advanced toward his brother.

There was no mistaking this was his brother standing before him. He was bruised and worn around the edges, but still upright. Still breathing. His own heart stuttered with joy and relief. He knew it! Had known it all along. His Sammy was alive!

He continued to stare at his brother, his Sam, with complete attention. He soaked in every little detail. The skin that was far too pale stretched over a face grown even more haggard. Ill fitting clothes hanging off a frail, bony frame. The way his right arm was cradled against his body. Eyes stretched wide, peeping out from under shaggy bangs, filled with shock.

Sam wavered on his feet and when Dean moved forward to support his brother this stranger, Dan, placed himself protectively between the brothers.

As if he, Dean, was somehow a threat.

Dean grew lightheaded and drew overdue oxygen into his lungs before speaking. "Damn, Sammy. I've been looking all over for you. Are you okay?"

He knew his brother wasn't okay but he waited for some sort of sign from Sam, something that would remove this imposter out of his way so that he could touch his brother. He needed to prove to himself that Sam wasn't a mirage or some figment of his imagination.

But Sam flinched at the sound of Dean's voice and shuffled backward, out of his reach. Sam's usually clear, intelligent eyes were clouded with doubt and his trademark dimples weren't flashing at Dean.

It was as though Sam was looking at a stranger when he looked at Dean. And not just any stranger but someone he distrusted.

He made his arms drop to his sides and tried to reason through what was happening but confusion reigned. "Sam? It's me, Dean. I've been looking for you since the explosion."

He side stepped the obstacle in his way, Dan, and his right arm reached out of its own volition, stretching forward until his hand brushed Sam's left hand. His brother immediately jolted, yanking his hand away from Dean. He inched backward until his back was pressed flat against the wall.

Dean was trying to come to terms with what was happening but he couldn't keep his distance any longer. He surged forward and clutched Sam's upper arms, drawing him forward until he rested against the protection of Dean's chest and in his sheltering arms. He'd known in his heart that Sam was still alive but had been afraid to hope; Winchesters and hope didn't have a great track record.

He felt Sam resist but he lacked the strength to pull away from Dean. Instead his brother held his body taut. Aloof.

Dean awkwardly rubbed his brother's back, tracing lazy circles against the stiff back. After a few seconds it all felt natural. He'd comforted Baby Sam this way hundreds of time.

But Sam wasn't having any of it. He was locked rigidly in Dean's embrace and Dean felt rather than saw what happened next — his brother's dead weight crashed against him, the once unyielding limbs suddenly loose.

Dean sagged to a knee as he guided Sam's body to the floor in a controlled fall. He supported Sam's neck, his hand sliding through the long locks as his brother's head bobbed limply back.

Sam's eyes were fixed and staring, the pupils having eaten all but a slight ring of color. His mouth was slack and his breaths panted through blue-tinged, parted lips.

"SAMMY?!"

-0-

Sam felt nausea build until the burn of bile settled in his esophagus. He pushed off the bed and made for the doorway, intent on making it to the bathroom before his stomach spewed its contents. He tripped over a discarded shoe and fell heavily to the floor, bruising his knee against the unforgiving surface.

The pain in his knee overtook the need to vomit as his biggest priority and he sat back, holding his knee, as he waited for the sharp agony to turn to a deep throb. As he massaged his knee he saw Dan hustle into his room, blue eyes bright with panic.

Strong hands wrapped around his left arm and tugged him upward until he was on his feet. Dan's concern radiated in waves as words started burbling out of him. "Nick, are you okay? I don't know how to tell you this but there's a man downstairs claiming to be your brother. I told him you weren't here but do you have a brother? Is your real name Sam?"

Nick numbly stood there as Dan's words washed over him. Before he could try to communicate with the man before him, he heard a name ricochet into the room from the hallway. "Sammy?!"

A blond man, taller than Dan, but just as rangy and looking equally harried pushed into the room. Concerned eyes locked on his own and for a moment he felt comforted.

This feeling was supplanted by fear and he wavered on his feet, blinking to clear his eyes and ease the ache pounding across his temples. His left hand started to lift and travel toward his head but he refused to give in to the weakness. Instead he planted his feet and determined to stand his ground. His right arm throbbed and he drew it across his body unconsciously.

The man was so familiar yet he couldn't place the memory. If there was, indeed, a memory. As the stranger made to move toward him, Dan placed his body in front of Nick's in some misguided notion of protection; he could tell as he sized the man up that Dan was no match for him. This man radiated strength. And danger. Nick warily watched him, waiting to see what he'd do next.

The man paled considerably and freckles stood out across his nose and cheeks. "Damn, Sammy. I've been looking all over for you. Are you okay?"

He flinched at the raw emotion in the stranger's voice. Another unaccounted feeling of comfort washed over him again. Just as quickly unease flooded through him. This man looked at him like he expected something out of him. Like he should know him.

He slid backward in an effort to distance himself from this man. He didn't trust himself to judge whether this man meant them any harm. And he certainly didn't want to be the cause of trouble for Dan, someone who had tried to help him repeatedly.

The man's arms flopped to his side and his face scrunched up in confusion. Maybe it was a simple case of mistaken identity. Maybe this guy thought Nick was someone else. Then he heard the low rumble of concern. "Sam? It's me, Dean. I've been looking for you since the explosion."

Dean?! This was Dean?! His feet were rooted to the ground while he watched with detachment as the man pushed around Dan and reached out to tug on Nick's uninjured hand.

The contact was electric and he jumped back, pulling his hand away. He stumbled away until he felt the wall push back. His vision began to blur and his breathing accelerated. He needed to get away. He didn't know what exactly had happened, but in his visions or nightmares or whatever they were, Dean had him put in a straight jacket. He couldn't trust him. But his head was throbbing in time to his heartbeat and he was beginning to see black spots dancing in front of him.

Hands tightly gripped his aching arms and he was drawn inexorably forward until this man, Dean, held him locked in his arms. He tried to resist but his energy was flagging. He allowed himself to be cradled, just for a moment, and felt a warm hand rubbing his back.

These weren't the actions of a madman, were they? Why was this Dean trying to comfort him? His resistance started to flee as he gave in to the humanity of the soft touch.

A sharp pain hammered his head, stealing his breath away with its intensity. He couldn't remain upright. He couldn't think. He sank forward, giving in to the pull of gravity.

_Asher stood before him, yellow eyes flashing. Something deep inside of his head grated, like a key turning in a rusty lock. Pressure built to a crescendo until he thought his head would explode. The pressure gave way as his surroundings shifted . He could finally see clearly. And with clarity. He knew what he needed to do and his brother would be his strength._

-0-

Dean refused to let go of Sam and instead clutched him to his chest. His brother's breaths were bursting from his blue lips in an irregular hitching pattern. He cradled his brother closer in an effort to lend him stability; he willed his brother to just breathe, breathe, breathe.

Instead his brother continued to stare at a point over Dean's shoulder while fine tremors pulsed through his frame. They were mild to begin with but quickly shifted to full on quakes that made Dean cling to him with all of his strength to reduce the bucking and bending.

Seizure. His brother had to be suffering some sort of seizure. But then he looked into Sam's dilated eyes and recognized the expression — his brother was having a vision. And if it didn't stop soon his brother wouldn't survive it.

He shifted and jostled Sam until he rested fully against Dean's left arm, burns and all, which throbbed at the abuse. Ignoring the discomfort he grabbed Sam's chin with his right hand and angled it away so he wasn't staring at the same point in the hope that the contact and movement would break the vision's hold. No such luck.

Unable to restrain himself any longer, Dean started stroking his hand across Sam's clammy brow and then through his sweat-tangled hair. "Come on, Sammy...Don't do this...There's so much I have to tell you...Are you listening to me?...I...you just have to come back...You can't leave me alone...And I can't face what Dad told me before he died...It's about you...Sam, you need to snap out of it...I need your help Sam...I need your strength...Don't leave me again."

The words ran out of Dean in a torrent. He didn't even know what he was saying but he wanted, no needed, to convey to Sam how much he meant to him. He couldn't go on without him. He'd discovered that after John Winchester banished Sam from their lives when he chose to go to college. Dean had motored through life without Sam, rudderless, without purpose. Just going through the motions of living.

He continued to stroke his hand through Sam's hair in a smoothing motion even while his murmurs of reassurance and pleadings finally dried up. He didn't think he was having any affect until Sam's eyes widened with a gasp of pain before his lids lowered to shutter his eyes. Sam's whole body relaxed — the tremors abated, his breathing evened out, and he appeared to be sleeping instead of fighting for his life. His brother may have passed out but at least the color was returning to his face. And he no longer fought to escape from Dean's hold.

It took a moment but Dean's own breathing slowed from an adrenaline infused gallop to a normal rate. He was shaky and nauseous after what he had witnessed but he'd found Sam. That was the important thing.

Someone cleared his throat to gain his attention. Dan. He'd forgotten the other man was even in the room but he made his presence known now. "What do you need me to do? Do you want me to call an ambulance? I should have called 911 already but everything happened so fast, I couldn't think. Is he okay?"

Dan's face had paled and he also appeared stricken by the events. But at least he no longer looked at Dean with hostility. Dean decided to take advantage of the change in attitude. "He's better, I think. Is it okay if I move him to the bed? He had a really bad experience in the hospital recently, just got out in fact, and it's the last place the kid would want to be right now."

Dan moved over to the bed with a purpose, yanking the covers back and smoothing out the pillow. Dean levered his arms under Sam's pliant body and hoisted him into his arms before depositing him gently against the sheets. He took a moment to straighten Sam's arms and legs and settle his head more firmly on the pillow before drawing the covers up. His eyes briefly met Dan's who stared back from the other side of the room.

Dean dropped down on the edge of the bed and held Sam's left hand between his own before seeking out and timing the slow thud of his brother's pulse. He should call Bobby or do something, but right now he only had eyes for Sam. He couldn't even make himself let go of Sam's wrist after taking his pulse; he needed that contact to assure himself that Sam hadn't disappeared again.

Despite his size, Sam looked impossibly young and fragile as he rested on the bed; Dean knew he had inner strength and was relying on that to get his brother through this latest setback.

TBC

A/N: At least the brothers are back together. I know that's how I prefer to see them. Thanks for reading and if you've left a review, that goes double for you.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Dean startled as a cool glass of water was pressed into his hand. "Here, you don't look so good yourself."

He tried to smile graciously before he sipped from the glass but he couldn't get his facial muscles to cooperate. "Thanks. I'm…you see…"

He halted, unsure of how to explain to Dan what had just happened. He'd stormed in and confronted Sam, ecstatic to find him alive, only to have him collapse in a heap at his feet. And apparently Dan knew him as Nick, not Sam. They had lapped confusing miles ago and moved into Twilight Zone territory.

There was a knock at the bedroom door and Bobby thrust his head inside. "Dean? What's going on? I thought you were…holy shit, is that Sam?"

Dean dragged himself off his perch on the edge of Sam's bed. "Sorry Bobby. I've had my hands full."

Bobby's eyes darted over Sam's still form and then back to Dean's face before landing on Dan. Dean made the unorthodox introductions. "This is Dan. He owns the diner. There are still some missing pieces to the puzzle but I think Sam lost his memory and he's been staying here."

Dean turned his attention to the blond man who was standing with his arms crossed. He looked ready to defend his turf and then the tension drained out of him. "I don't pretend to understand what's going on here but I can see there's a connection between you and Nick. Or Sam."

Bobby snorted in disbelief. "Of course they're connected. They're brothers."

Dan sighed. "Fine, I'm willing to concede they are brothers. I'd like to know how Sam ended up in this condition. In exchange I'll tell you what I know."

Bobby's hand fell on Dean's shoulder. "You look done in boy. Why don't you go sit next to your brother before you fall flat on your face."

Dean wanted to argue if only to save face but Bobby was right; he was numb with worry and ready to drop where he stood. He nodded before returning to his brother's side.

Bobby rounded on Dan. "Sam here was caught in that gas station explosion. How could you not know about it? It's been all over the news. And why did you bring him here? He looks like hell."

Dan held his ground but his face was flushed with embarrassment. "My friend Red found him wandering by the Interstate ramp. It was the day after the explosion and he was down the road a piece from the gas station. It never occurred to us that Nick had been caught in that explosion. Thought he was homeless and had been beaten and abandoned. Red knows I run a homeless shelter which happens to be full right now so he brought him here. We thought he was hard of hearing and mute so Red started calling him Nick, like in The Stand, and it stuck. Now it's your turn."

Bobby squared his shoulders and took his baseball cap off; he twisted it restlessly to keep his hands occupied. "Sam has had a rough stretch. Complications from a car accident followed by setbacks meant a couple of stays in the hospital and he'd just been released. The boys stopped at that gas station and were separated in the explosion; we didn't know what happened to Sam. Kind of a shock to realize you've got him tucked away here. What gives?"

Dean cleared his throat from his perch on Sam's bed. "Guys, can we hold off on the pissing contest? At least until we figure out what's going on with Sam?"

Dan had the grace to blush and Bobby shuffled over to stand by Dean as both men mumbled apologies. Dean took this as a sign of cease fire. "Is it okay if I stay here and watch over Sam while he rests? He probably needs a doctor but after everything the poor kid has been through, I don't really want to do that unless we have to. And I don't want to move him until he's awake."

Dean turned his attention back to his brother and gazed at his pale features. He'd like nothing better than to pick Sam up and run but he wasn't sure his brother could physically withstand the trauma. Although remaining in the room with the two combatants certainly wasn't restful.

He felt a hand descend on his shoulder; he'd expected it to be Bobby and flinched when he turned his head to find Dan standing to close. "You take all the time you need. We'll be downstairs if you need anything."

Dean closed his eyes and sighed as the quarreling men departed the room, already verbally jousting again.

It wasn't that he wasn't grateful for Dan's help or Bobby's support but the constant noise had given him a headache. He could imagine what Sam's head felt like after his uber-vision followed by the Bickersons.

Dean flexed his shoulders and rolled his neck in an effort to work out some of the kinks. When he turned his attention back to Sam it was to find his brother staring with wide eyed trepidation at him.

That look really hurt; it was plain to see that Sam didn't know who he was and didn't trust him. And he was at a loss as to how he should jog Sam's memory. This wasn't something John Winchester had ever prepared him for.

-0-

Nick pried open his blood shot eyes and was confronted with the profile of a profoundly unhappy blond man. Dean.

A small shiver rippled through his body. This was the Dean of his nightmares.

But this Dean didn't seem threatening. In fact there was a pervasive sorrow surrounding the young man and it confused Nick. His pounding head intensified and he stifled a gasp.

Too late. Dean turned his head and saw he was awake.

A callused finger reached out and touched Nick's cheek with surprising gentleness. "Oh Sammy, I don't know what to do here."

Nick tried to roll away but Dean stilled him with the touch of a hand to his uninjured arm. This man, a stranger to him, absently stroked his arm and spoke quietly, a harsh whisper dropping into the silence of the room. "I look at you and I can see that you don't know who I am and it hurts so much. It's worse than when you walked out on me and dad when you left for Stanford. I'll never forget that fight, I thought you and Dad were going to come to blows. Instead he told you if you left, you should stay gone. And you did. Why did you listen to him? And then he went and dropped a bombshell on me before he died. He told me something, something about you. But you don't remember Dad. Or me. Your own brother."

Listening to this man speak from his heart with such seeming sincerity really had an effect on Nick. Was it possible he was looking at his brother? He didn't have the answer and it scared him; he didn't like not knowing, didn't like being at someone else's mercy. Flipping away from the melancholy man he cradled his arm close to his body and closed his eyes. Maybe when he woke up he'd realize it had all just been a bad dream.

-0-

Dean gazed at his baby brother. He'd underestimated Sam's power to hurt him again. You'd think after Stanford he would have learned a lesson. But here he was, spilling his innermost thoughts to someone who looked at him like he was deranged. Psychotic even.

Yet he'd seen a glimmer of something in Sammy's eyes. Beyond the bewilderment and fear Sam had made some sort of connection with him. He needed to build on it somehow. The only thing he could think of to try was to talk to Sam about their shared memories.

Sam was curled on his side in full protection mode, hiding away from Dean. He'd give his brother a while to rest but then he'd come at him again with everything he had. He cursed his standard arsenal of silver bullets, rock salt and holy water; what he needed was a stiff shot of Dr. Phil and to get in touch with his feminine side. It was everything he loathed, everything that made him squirm – but he was fighting for his brother now and the gloves were off. He'd do whatever it took to get Sam back.

He settled more comfortably on the narrow, lumpy mattress and willed his brother to wake up. Dean held his breath in anticipation when his brother flipped onto his back and opened his eyes.

Confusion. Distrust. Longing. He could read it all in his brother's soulful, bloodshot eyes. Now was his chance to jog Sammy's memory.

Not wanting to startle his brother yet needing a physical connection, Dean lightly massaged Sam's knotted calf muscle. It seemed the safest place to touch without setting off rejection. "Sam, there's so much I could tell you but I don't know where to start. Do you want to hear about your first hunt? How about the first bone you broke. Or knowing you, you'd rather hear about the first girl you kissed or the speech you gave in front of assembly at your last high school that blew everyone away."

Dean's thoughts were interrupted as the bedroom door banged open, rattling on its hinges.

The tallest, brawniest, red headed man he'd ever seen in person barged through the door and glared at him. Paul Bunyan come to life, replete with beard and mustache and wearing jeans, flannel shirt and suspenders.

He jumped to his feet and placed himself between Sam and this stranger. And then the giant spoke in a rumbling bass, "I'm Red. Who the hell are you and what do you want with Nick?"

Feet pounded down the hallway and soon the small room was a cornucopia of men in varying shapes and sizes as Dan and Bobby spilled into the room behind Red. It was Dan who took charge of the situation. "Can it, Red. I told you on the phone what was going on. No need to upset young Nick more than you already have by barging in here."

Red rubbed his face sheepishly and smiled with self deprecation. "You're right. It's just that I was getting used to having Nick around."

Dan rolled his eyes good naturedly. "As soon as you started calling him Nick, you started getting ideas. But he's a person, not a puppy; you can't keep him. And Nick isn't a psychic sent here to save the world. In fact Nick isn't even Nick. He's Sam. Say good-bye to Sam and let's leave these boys alone. You're using up all of the oxygen in this room, you big lug."

-0-

Nick watched with trepidation as Red blew into the room. He couldn't help but be impressed with the way Dean stationed himself between the big man and the reclining Nick.

His vision blurred as he was assaulted with another vision. _Sam, get down! And then Dean bowled him over and took a claw to his shoulder for his efforts. H__e watched his brother's__ lips __curl back to expose a toothsome smile __as he fired a round into the __Devil Hound as it readied itself for another pass._

Dean. His brother.

And he was Sam. Not Nick.

He was pelted with memory after memory and it made his head buzz. He barely registered the bodies filing out of the room or Dean taking his arm.

When the blood roaring in his earssettled down he could hear Dean speaking to him. Soothing him. Rubbing a hand in gentle circles on his back.

Sam managed to push the softest of sounds past his lips. "Dean?"

Dean grabbed his uninjured arm and shifted his upper body so he could look him full in the face. "Sammy?"

And whatever Dean saw in his countenance assured him that he had his full faculties back. He was tugged without prelude into a deep bear hug that had him squirming for air.

The brothers finally sat back and stared at each other. Dean reached forward and chucked Sam lightly on the chin. "You've got some 'splaining to do, Lucy."

And then Dean did something Sam had rarely seen him do as an adult – while his mouth was pulled back in a wide grin, moisture was leaking slowly from the corners of both eyes. And damned if Sam didn't feel the moisture on his own face.

TBC

A/N: The reunion is complete but there are still some loose ends to tie up.

Heartfelt thanks to Gidgetgal9 for her help with the amnesia plot line. It was going nowhere fast until she made some suggestions.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The motel room was like any other. Nothing special, not even very clean, but it was on the ground floor so Sam didn't have to fight with the stairs.

Dean shifted on his bed so he could get a look at his brother. All things considered, Sam was doing pretty good.

He'd gotten Sam back today. Or last night. It was already going on 2:00 a.m. Both brothers tossed and turned in their double beds. Dean didn't know what was on Sam's mind but he couldn't quit thinking about how lucky he'd been to find his brother.

He also owed a debt of gratitude to the men who had cared for Sam. Although he couldn't thank Dan and Red enough for the attention they had lavished on Sam, he was his brother. His responsibility. So he'd whisked Sam out of town, away from the men, and settled him in a nondescript motel room to recover his strength. He'd even turned down Bobby's insistent invitation that they stay with him.

Sam's arm was still tender and probably needed another cast. Sam had fiercely shaken off that idea; he didn't want to go anywhere near a doctor. His voice was still wispy and hoarse and had failed him completely after about thirty seconds of talking. The brothers had been forced to go back to using body language and the laptop to communicate.

Dean turned his head back toward the clock and watched it click over another minute. He heard Sam rustle on the bed and turned his head to see Sam watching him.

His brother looked eerie in the green light the alarm clock cast over his features. "Can't sleep? Maybe we should try counting sheep."

Instead of trying to sleep Sam tumbled out of bed and made his way to the table where the laptop lay dormant. His brother quickly powered it up and began awkwardly typing, primarily using his left hand. Dean's curiosity pulled him out of bed to hover over his brother's shoulder. He read the words in front of him on the screen: _You mentioned Dad said something to you before he died… _

Dean couldn't believe that all of the things he'd said while Sam's memory was AWOL, this was the one thing he heard. "You're right, he did. But I'm not going talk about it now. Maybe later" Dean said in a neutral tone.

His brother turned and looked over his shoulder at him and Dean wanted to kick himself as he saw resignation wash over Sam's face. Sam really hadn't initiated any conversations with Dean since he got out of the hospital but this topic was a real lulu and he wasn't ready to go there yet. And he didn't think Sam was ready for it either.

Dean saw Sam's head nod in acceptance before he turned away from the computer. The Sam of old would have been relentless in the pursuit of truth but this newer version just let it go. It was disconcerting to realize how much the last couple of months had changed Sam. Had changed them both.

Even though there was nothing in Sam's body language or expression that suggested he was upset, Dean was compelled to explain himself. "Look, I'm not trying to keep secrets from you. It's just really hard to talk about."

Sam turned back to the computer and keyed in: _It's okay Dean. I think I get it._

Dean misinterpreted Sam's acceptance and patience. He would tell Sam the truth and hope his brother wouldn't leave him. If he didn't tell him he was afraid he'd lose Sam anyway.

Dean paced back to the nearest bed and sat heavily on it. "Right before Dad died, he told me something. Told me something about you."

Sam's whole body swiveled around so that he was facing his brother. He pulled his left arm up and turned his palm up, a silent "what?" implied in the gesture.

Dean's hand played restlessly with the fringe of the bedspread. It was a distraction to keep him from looking at Sam. "He just said that I had to save you. That nothing else mattered and that if I couldn't, I'd…" Dean's voice trailed out.

He didn't want to see the disappointment in Sam's eyes but he forced his head up. Instead of disappointment he saw acceptance.

He had underestimated Sam again. It wasn't an act. His brother wanted to know what was bothering Dean but if he didn't want to open up to Sam then his little brother would let it go. And for the first time since John had whispered so urgently in his ear he felt that Sam wouldn't abandon him.

Clearing his throat Dean stumbled on, frantic to tell his brother the truth now. "He said that I'd have to kill you. He said that I might have to kill you, Sammy."

Dean felt like a balloon released into the air. The ugliness of the secret he'd been holding in for so long was finally out in the open. How screwed up was your family when your own father suggested that one son might have to kill the other? He couldn't dwell on that right now. He just needed to focus on getting Sam through this macabre revelation.

Dean watched as a myriad of expressions flitted across Sam's face. He expected to find disbelief and anger. He was right but not necessarily for the reasons he thought.

-0-

Sam pulled himself sluggishly to his feet and was soon pacing the worn motel carpet in slow, measured steps. He felt exhaustion weighing him down but he was so keyed up that he couldn't sit still.

He was so angry at John he could barely contain himself. Not livid because his father thought he might have to be put down, although there was a deep hurt inside that he couldn't really put into words right now, but because he'd put the burden on Dean.

Dean pulled himself off of the bed and made his way to Sam's side. "Sam, please say something," Dean entreated.

Sam turned toward his brother, determined to set things right between them. He took a deep breath to calm himself before trying to undo some of the damage their dad's words had wrought.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered. He was voice cracked with pain and was barely audible. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to make Dean understand.

Dean walked over to Sam and put a hand on his shoulder. "What do you have to be sorry about? I'm the one who's sorry."

Sam was undone by Dean's guilt and before he could change his mind he threw his arms around him, engulfing him a bear hug. Sam drew back a step before trying to set the record straight. "I know. You've always been there for me. And that's why I can't believe Dad would ask that of you. What the hell was he thinking?" Sam's voice exploded in gruff, mangled sound.

He stopped, unsure of how to proceed. He could see Dean's body tightening, defenses being thrown up, but he wanted his brother to know that he could share the burden of whatever was dragging him down. Sam turned back to Dean once he tamped his emotions down. "I know he's gone and I need to let it go but did he really have so little faith in me?"

Sam's voice trailed off before deserting him completely. He felt his legs begin to quiver and knew he needed to get off of his feet before he ended up on the floor.

A sudden pain spiked through Sam's head. He gasped as he found himself propelled once again into a vision.

-0-

Dean noticed the tremors starting to assail his brother and moved forward. He wanted to be close in case Sam passed out. Dean had months to try to come to terms with what their dad said before he died and he'd certainly had a hard time coping with it. He wasn't sure how this was going to affect Sam.

Dean heard the gasp and watched as the color blanched out of his brother's face. He wished he could take back those words. They'd only managed to hurt Sam and may have driven a wedge between them.

Sam's legs folded out from beneath him and Dean lunged forward to catch him. Dean gently lowered Sam to the ground and watched as Sam's pupils expanded and his features went slack. Sam was awake but not really in the same room with Dean, his attention cast inward as he watched future events unfolding in his mind's eye.

Watching Sam in such distress was unbearable and Dean clenched his fists tightly in frustration. He wanted to do something but he could only wait for Sam to surface and tell him what he saw.

Impatiently waiting for what seemed like an hour but was in fact only a minute, Dean was rewarded when Sam's head snapped up and his eyes sought out his brother. Dean was shocked as he saw a smile slide across Sam's face, a dimple twinkling next the groove of Sam's mouth.

Sam grasped Dean's upper arms in a painful grip but Dean was so bewildered by Sam's smile he couldn't find the words to protest.

His brother opened his mouth but no sound emerged. Sam pounded the ground in frustration with his left fist before using Dean's arms to pull him. He trudged over to the laptop and collapsed in the hard wood chair before attacking the keyboard.

Dean watched in amazement as he saw the screen: _I think I know how to end it._

Sam had a gleam in his eye that bespoke of grand plans but Dean needed to know what was going on and what had Sam in such a state. He needed to know that the stress of his Dad's words hadn't sent Sam into a mental tailspin. "What. Are. You. Talking. About?"

His brother continued typing: _When I was in the psych unit with Asher, he told me he couldn't touch you. I didn't know what he meant but now it makes sense._

Sam paused to catch his breath and flex his sore muscles.

He needed Sam to start making sense pronto. Or Sam's sanity wouldn't be the only one in question. "Well do you mind filling me in? The suspense is killing me."

Sam's hands limped over the keyboard: _When Dad traded his soul for your life, he made you practically invincible when it comes to the Yellow Eyed Demon. __I think y__o__u're the key to killing Asher._

-0-

Sam tried to explain but he was still sorting through the images from his vision and knew he wasn't doing a good job of clueing Dean in. He knew he was on the verge of collapse but this was too important. He needed to tell Dean there was a way to defeat the demon who had killed their mom, Jess and ultimately their dad.

Dean grabbed him by the shoulders and twisted him around. His body failed him again and he gasped as pain ricocheted through his head. Lights exploded behind his eyes and he slumped forward.

Gentle hands caught him before his consciousness fled.

TBC

A/N: Three more chapters left to go…


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter10

Dean gently tugged his brother out of the Impala and helped him toward Bobby's front door. Dean knew he should have insisted on taking Sam to the hospital but Sam was having none of it.

Sam had yet to be checked out since the explosion had rocked the gas station and sent Dean to the hospital with a severe concussion and second degree burns. And early this morning his brother had blacked out after one doozy of a vision.

Dean still didn't know what to make of it. Of course Sam was still groggy and dazed and hadn't been able to answer any of his questions. When his brother had come around after passing out Dean had fed him a pain pill and watched as the lines of pain smoothed from his brother's face, leaving him open and vulnerable.

He hitched his stumbling brother closer to his side. He wanted to protect him from everything. Including himself. Sam was bent on seeing this thing through to the end even though he couldn't even stand under his own steam.

Dean knew his brother was going to be unhappy but he wanted to leave him here under Bobby's watchful eye. Just for a while. So he could check some stuff out. After spilling his deepest darkest secret about their dad's last words, he felt like he needed a break to get himself together again.

-0-

Bobby knew the youngest Winchester was unhappy. He couldn't fault Dean for wanting to follow up on the hot tip young Ash had supplied – Dr. Osmond was a co-owner of a warehouse downtown – and anyone could see Sam wasn't up to it.

But since Sam had woken up from a nap, the same nap during which Dean had snuck out of the house, he had been frantic with worry, anxiously wearing a hole in the rug with his pacing.

And now Bobby knew worry as Sam dropped to his knees without warning, his left hand holding his head in misery while his broken right arm dropped to his side. Bobby kneeled down next to Sam. "Sam, son, what is it?"

Bobby noted the vacant look in Sam's eyes and the pallor in his face as he lifted his head to stare off into the distance. Bobby snatched his cell phone out of his pocket and began to dial Dean when Sam suddenly reached out and covered the cell phone with his left hand. Wrung out from the vision Sam paused to suck some air into his lungs before putting his index finger out to indicate he needed a moment.

Bobby made eye contact with Sam and stopped in mid-dial. He waited as Sam tried to speak but those overtaxed vocal cords couldn't sustain any volume. Bobby bent an ear next to Sam's lips and strained to catch his words.

"Vision…demon…warn Dean…needs us," Sam managed to eke out, his voice a near whisper. Bobby realized that Dean was walking into a trap and quickly finished punching in Dean's number.

When Dean picked up, Bobby cut off his greeting. "Dean, listen, it's a trap. Wait for us. We're on our way."

Bobby reached down and grabbed Sam by his left arm to haul him to his feet. He threw Sam's arm over his shoulder and anchored his hip to his side as he started moving them outside toward the truck.

Dean's voice was fading in and out randomly. "What do you mean…trap? How do…know…?"

Bobby leaned Sam against the truck while wresting the passenger door open. "Sam had a vision. We're coming so don't do anything stupid."

"Bobby…breaking…warehouse…" Bobby heard before Dean's cell phone cut out all together.

"Stupid, useless things," Bobby snarled as he pitched his cell onto the seat. He needed both arms to wrestle Sam into his truck.

"Ready? Up you go," Bobby said as he boosted a loose limbed Sam into the passenger seat. Making sure Sam was settled first, Bobby slammed the door before sprinting for the driver's side. He took the time to buckle first Sam and then himself before he burned rubber. He had a bad feeling and wanted to get to the warehouse as quickly as possible.

Taking his eyes off the road for a moment he glanced at his still passenger. Sam was wan and spent as he reclined bonelessly in the passenger seat.

Bobby didn't like how things were shaping up. Dean had dashed off on his own to follow a lead, Sam was having visions but didn't have a voice to share them, Dean's cell had cut out at a critical moment, and now Bobby doubted the wisdom or dragging Sam along with him. This whole scenario had 'snafu' written all over it.

-0-

Bobby spotted the Impala and pulled in next to it. He scanned the area but didn't see Dean. No surprise there. He was sure Dean had already found a way into the warehouse.

Bobby turned to the other Winchester brother to find him listing in the passenger seat, head scrunched up against the window. His skin was waxy and pale except where the livid bruises stood out. He had no business being out of bed but it couldn't be helped. Sam had said Dean was in danger and there was no way he could prevent Sam from coming to Dean's aid.

Bobby got out of the truck and moved around the passenger seat to help Sam out. He was surprised to find Sam awake and clawing at the seat belt with his good hand. The belt released with a click and Sam started tumbling toward the ground.

"Whoa, Sam. I'd say you still have some work to do on your dismounts." Bobby caught him deftly and stood him on his feet. Sam swayed against the truck but held his ground. Satisfied that he wouldn't immediately pass out Bobby grabbed his good arm and steered him toward the side entrance.

"Excuse me. Can you help me? I'm looking for a good time." Bobby slowly turned to find a long legged brunette in a short mini skirt and plunging neckline walking toward them on stiletto heels.

As she drew a bowie knife from behind her back, Bobby pushed Sam toward the entrance. "I'll keep her busy. You find Dean."

-0-

As Sam staggered through the entrance he heard the smoky voice taunt Bobby, "So you think you're man enough for the likes of me?" He knew Bobby could take care of himself so he edged himself into the warehouse.

Before him was the stuff of nightmares. Sam realized immediately that Dean, whose back was to him, was facing off with the Yellow Eyed Demon. Asher.

Sam tried to call out to Dean but only a soft whimper escaped his lips. Dean didn't hear him but Asher knew he was there. He found himself dragged back and pinned against the wall of the warehouse by an unseen force. Invisible bonds held him down and his voice failed him. He was trapped with no way to warn his brother.

Asher slowly pulled a cigar – Cuban, naturally – out of the inside pocket of his Italian silk suit jacket and lit it with his finger tips. He smirked while blowing a stream of smoke in Dean's direction.

-0-

Dean was nonplussed. Until this moment he had tried to tell himself they were dealing with some other entity but yellow eyes and fire at the touch of a finger made a pretty good case for this being the same demon who had killed Mary Winchester, followed by Jessica, and then made a deal resulting in John Winchester's demise as well. Every instinct inside of Dean was telling him to run but he summoned inner strength and his held his ground.

"So, what brings you to this abandoned warehouse?" the Demon asked in a conversational tone. "Wait, let me guess. You, the hero of this piece, jumped on your white charger to battle the foe who's threatening the fair maiden." The Demon paused to take another puff of his cigar, "I wonder what dear Sam would think of being compared to a fair maiden? I supposed he's used to it seeing as you always put him in his place by calling him _Samantha_." The Demon shrugged out of his jacket and threw it aside, all the while enjoying his cigar.

Dean knew better then to be drawn into a war of words with Asher but it was taking every ounce of self control not to respond. Dean teased Sam from time to time about being a moody woman but as the older brother that was his prerogative. The demon made it sound as though Dean was committing some heinous act.

Asher smirked as Dean flinched. "What's the matter Dean? You're always eager to shoot off that mouth of yours. Well maybe we haven't touched on the right subject yet. Should we talk about how you and your Dad did such a stellar job of raising Sammy?"

Since remaining silent was egging on the demon Dean decided to play along. He expected Sam and Bobby to arrive any minute now. He no longer held out hope for defeating the demon now but he hoped they would live to fight another day. Vengeance simmered deep inside of him.

Dean felt like he was trapped in a Spaghetti Western but he was just trying to buy time. He was hoping to use Sam's arrival as a distraction so they could make a break for it. "You leave my brother out of it. This is between you and me."

Asher's smirk turned to one of contempt, lips sneering. "Au contraire. This is all about Sammy. By forcing Sam to hunt and give up his dreams you forged Sam into the weapon I covet."

Dean tried not to flinch. He didn't like where this conversation was headed. He was never honest with himself when it came to Sam's upbringing; he certainly wasn't going to be honest with the demon. "We taught Sam to hunt so that he could protect himself from you. We took care of Sam. I don't know what you're talking about."

Asher smiled so wide his white teeth gleamed in the murky warehouse. "Don't delude yourself Dean. Your dad, the great John Winchester, resented that his beloved wife died while Sam lived on. Happy to be the good little soldier you followed your dad's orders to the letter. And if that meant keeping Sam from fulfilling his full potential then that was alright with you. Because Sam was your very own plaything – you got to nourish him and care for him and make him totally dependent on you. Tsk, tsk. A good parent raises the child to care for himself but all you ever wanted was someone who wouldn't abandon you."

Dean recognized some truth in what the demon said but he knew everything they'd done, everything he'd done, had been for the family. Trying to keep Sam with them was the only way to protect him. When Sam had fled the family for Stanford, Dean had been heartbroken. Sam needed him. "Don't delude yourself Asher. Sam's childhood might not have been Norman Rockwell but we did alright by him. Sam never lacked for anything. We made damn sure of it."

Dean was trying hard not to get sucked into Asher's game. He might not know the rules but he knew Asher was up to something. Where was Sam?

Asher continued to pummel Dean with negative thoughts. "Sammy never lacked for food, clothing or attention but that attention wasn't always a good thing. It's really surprising that Saint John never drove Sam into therapy with his nitpicking. Sam couldn't do anything to please your old man and you, his protector, watched while John tried to tear down his self esteem. And yet you say you love him? What kind of love is that?"

Dean was stretched to the breaking point. He could feel his pulse thudding against his temple and wondered if this is what it felt like to have a stroke. He suddenly found himself on his knees, clasping his head. "Shut up! I love Sam and would never do anything to hurt him."

Asher didn't even have to touch Dean and he would be scarred for life. "If you can't level with me, at least level with yourself. Isn't it true that since John gave his life so you could live, you've wished Sam had never been born? Then Mary and John would still be alive and Sam never would have walked out on you. You'd be the perfect, little happy family."

Asher tapped the cigar littering the floor with ashes. "Admit it Dean. You sometimes wish Sam was out of the picture."

Yes, if he were completely honest with himself, there were times when he wanted his parents back so badly he would have traded anything for them. "I want my parents back. Who wouldn't? I…" Dean cut off the thought before he could speak it aloud.

Guilt gnawed at his conscious. Guilt over his father trading his life for Dean's and guilt over wanting to have both his parents back. At any price. But he loved his brother and had sworn to take care of him. And he loved him. He might not say the words but it was true.

"Well, Sammy. What do you think?" Asher looked past Dean's shoulder at the wall behind him.

Dean spun around on his knees in a crouch. He couldn't believe his eyes. Apparently Sam had been there to hear Dean confess his innermost feelings. But Sam had to know that he loved him and would never hurt him. The guilt sometimes confused him but Dean had always protected Sam and always would.

Dean slowly approached Sam's side worried that he would find condemnation. Instead he found Sam's eyes focused on his brother with intense concentration.

TBC

A/N: I would like to thank Faye Dartmouth for her beta on this chapter many moons ago. In fact I think this was the first chapter that was written for this story. And then I took another crack at it and decided with Gidgetgal9's help that it was okay to set it loose.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter11

Trapped up against the wall behind Dean, Sam tried in vain to get his brother's attention. He struggled against the invisible bonds holding him back but it wasn't getting him anywhere except exhausted. He felt sweat dampen his brow and tears blur his vision. He was useless to help Dean.

His beloved Jessica appeared before him, urging him on with a shake of her head. The blinding whiteness of her dress had been replaced by a subdued dove gray color. Her whole image was a shimmer of gray.

His mother appeared next to Jess. She was also enveloped in gray. What should have been dull and gloomy exuded peace.

Neither apparition opened her mouth but his mind was filled with their soothing voices. _You know what you need to do, Sam. _

Sam couldn't speak but he closed his eyes and projected his thoughts into his brother's head. Something pinged in his head, followed by a slide and a click. His eyes sprang open as the world shifted ruthlessly back into focus.

He could see everything now. The world was no longer in black and white or even the comforting gray of Jess and Mary as they faded from his sight. Harsh reds and greens and everything in between dotted the landscape.

Except the twin gray spots that shown where Ash's eyes should have been. The window to his soul, if he had one. And his Achilles tendon.

He turned all of his attention to his brother. _Dean, remember when I said you were the key? I think this is it. I need you to stand in front of me and shield me from Asher._

Skepticism was apparent as Dean flicked a glance over his shoulder and frowned as Asher puffed away on a cigar. The demon seemed oblivious of the conversation taking place between the brothers.

Dean stepped forward and tried to peel Sam away from the wall. Pain cascaded through his body. _No, don't try to move me. I just need you to block me from Asher. He can't hurt you, you're untouchable._

His brother's eyes widened in disbelief. Sam remembered the last time Dean had tangled with the Yellow Eyed Demon and been left in a coma but a lot had happened since then. Namely John Winchester trading his life for that of Dean's.

Trust. He needed his brother to trust him like he had trusted in Dean a million times before tonight.

And he was rewarded with a lop-sided grin as Dean wordlessly acknowledged his request for help. He positioned his body so that his back was flush to the demon, completely demonstrating the trust he had in his brother. Turning your back to the enemy was never good strategy unless there was a plan.

And Sam had a plan. He was tall enough that he had a view of the demon over his brother's shoulder. Asher continued to puff contentedly on his cigar. Sam could feel energy tingling through his body, the hair on his head beginning to stand on end with frantic static. He took two deep breaths to center himself before closing his eyes. When he reopened them pure blue energy in the form of electricity blazed from his eyes.

Dean flinched his head away and closed his eyes but held fast to his position.

Asher cried out in shock, the cigar dropping from his fingers as he threw up his arms to protect his eyes. "NO!!!"

Sam was oblivious to his surroundings as he pummeled the demon with the heat that blazed out of his own soul. He could feel himself weakening but then Jess and Mary were propping him up, sustaining him with calming words.

Asher's ability to bind him to the wall collapsed under the onslaught of power and Sam fell forward into his brother's arms. Dean held him up and pulled him forward, dragging him as his feet stumbled, until they stood mere feet from the demon.

The demon that had changed their lives.

-0-

Asher's body pulsed with energy, blue sparks flying from his fingertips. His human form began to melt, strips of skin pulling loose and dripping like wax from a candle to the concrete floor.

He couldn't believe his brother was the cause of it. Sam had always been special to him. But this was unbelievable.

Dean had seen a lot through the years but even he had to admit the pyrotechnic display before him was gross. He wished now he hadn't drawn Sam toward the demon. A closer look wasn't really necessary.

He tried to screen his brother's sight from the carnage by pulling him around but Sam's feet remained fixed, his attention focused on the demon short circuiting before them. Sam's legs wobbled precariously and Dean held him tightly, amazed that he was still upright.

Sam's hands covered his ears, his mouth contorted in a silent scream as wave after wave of energy slammed into his body. To Dean the energy was more of a caress, passing around instead of through his body. But Sam trembled in its hold. He needed to get his brother away from Asher.

Before he could act the demon imploded in a burst of white hot light and raw power burned out in one final, dazzling concussion that rocked the warehouse. Both brother's were picked up of their feet and slammed into the back wall where Sam had been trapped before as the demon verbally toyed with Dean.

Dean pulled himself up to his knees and leaned on his hands as he shook his head, trying to clear the wooziness. He knew he should feel a sense of accomplishment, or closure, but right now his body ached from the abuse.

If he felt this bad he wondered how his injured brother had fared. He squinted his eyes and peered through the smoky confines. About two feet away he spotted his brother, eyes closed, lying in a heap at the base of the wall.

Dean crawled over next to Sam and tried to rouse his brother by calling his name and gently shaking his shoulders. He didn't stir. Dean braced his hands on either side of Sam's head and leaned down to place an ear against his brother's chest. A steady thump could be heard through Sam's chest wall and Dean relaxed.

Until he realized something sticky coated his fingers. Blood was darkening the floor beneath his brother's head.

Dean cautiously lifted Sam's head off the ground and tilted his head. There. Dean could see blood freely flowing from Sam's left ear.

Dean was seized by dizziness as he tried to comprehend what was happening. He could hear sirens in the distance and prayed they would be in time. Dean refused to allow another loved one to succumb to the yellow eyed demon.

Dean carefully pulled Sam into his arms and leaned his cheek against the crook of Sam's neck. He could feel Sam's pulse sluggishly beating. He sat up slowly, gingerly cradling Sam again his chest, and brushed the hair back from Sam's face. He was stunned to see Sam's eyes open and staring into his own.

Tears leaked from the corners of Sam's eyes as he struggled to speak. Dean couldn't believe he was awake much less trying to talk right now. "Shhh, don't try to talk Sammy. I've got you and help is on the way."

Dean held Sam against his chest; rocked him like he used to when Sam was a baby. The sirens were getting louder and Dean wanted Sam to save his strength.

Dean could see the frustration on Sam's face as he continued to work his mouth but little sound emerged. Trying to keep Sam from expending too much energy Dean leaned over and placed his ear close to Sam's mouth.

Sam took a deep breath, coughing on the gathering smoke, and tried to force sound past his bruised vocal cords. "Everything's going to be okay…remember, I love you, D…" Sam's whisper died out as he began to cough in earnest.

Dean, oblivious to the smoke, looked at Sam with disbelief and awe. He knew Sam had heard what Asher had said, what Dean had said. And yet his brother said things would be okay and that he loved Dean.

Relief turned to horror as Dean noticed the look of acceptance on Sam's face. Sam hadn't been trying to assuage Dean's guilt, he'd been saying goodbye.

"No! You can't have him!" Dean turned his face toward the heavens as tears left salty paths through the soot on his cheeks. It was then that he noticed the thick smoke overtaking the room.

Leaning down he scooped Sam up and held him to his chest while staggering to his feet. He needed to get Sam to safety quickly. He weaved across the room toward the door, carefully balancing his still brother in his arms. Leaning his shoulder against the door he pushed out into the fresh air.

Immediately he was met with firemen trying to relieve him of his burden. Dean didn't want to give Sam up but his strength was flagging and he grudgingly allowed Sam to be removed from his care. Dean watched the fireman carrying his brother break into a run toward the nearest ambulance.

"Sir, is there anyone else inside?" Another fireman had Dean by the arm and was leading him away from the warehouse. Dean shook his head no as he was lead toward another ambulance.

"No, please. I have to stay with my brother." Dean became agitated as Sam disappeared from his sight. He tried to pull away from the hand holding him back but he couldn't break away.

He heard a voice as if from a long distance saying that some man was suffering from shock and smoke inhalation and then he knew no more. His vision turned spotty and he pitched forward sinking into oblivion.

TBC

A/N: The YED is no more. I'm not sure I did the scene with him going super-nova justice; I never would have guessed writing gore would be so difficult. Oh, and this was written way before AHBL2 so I hope you'll forgive the AU.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: This chapter is for Maxandkiz who wanted to read the last chapter before going on vacation as well as Faye Dartmouth and Gidgetgal9, the best betas, and friends, a girl could ask for.

Chapter 12

Dean awoke to find himself in the same ER he had taken Sam to when sleep deprivation had done a number on his little brother's mind. He had an oxygen mask on his face and he felt a slight burn in his lungs. He struggled to sit up, calling out for his brother, "Sam?!"

"Easy Dean. They just took Sam up to surgery." Bobby was standing next to Dean, his left arm in a sling, and a nasty cut sporting stitches along his left check.

Dean knew there was a story behind Bobby's wounds but he was so worried about Sam he didn't have the energy to ask. Bobby seemed to understand this and pulled a plastic chair up next to Dean.

"You've got smoke inhalation but you'll be fine if you take it easy." Bobby looked down at the floor before lifting his chin to look Dean in the eye. "It doesn't look good. Sam's got a bleed in his brain." Bobby let out a harsh breath before continuing, "I'm sorry Dean."

Guilt spread through Dean. He had no way of knowing if the stress of his words had caused the bleed or if the demon had caused it but he felt awful that the last thing his brother might have thought was that Dean would have traded him to have Mary and John back.

Dean struggled to find hope. He looked at Bobby's face and found misery etched deeply in the grooves on his face. Bobby leaned forward and awkwardly patted Dean's hand. There were no words that would make Dean feel better. They could only wait for news of Sam.

Worried for Dean's condition, the ER doctor initially refused to release him. Dean finally wore him down and after five hours of wrangling Dean and Bobby found themselves in the surgical waiting room.

Dean jumped to his feet as a man in scrubs entered the room. Dean didn't hear the doctor say his name or Sam's prognosis – he only heard that Sam was alive. Dean sagged with relief and the doctor and Bobby both reached forward to prevent him from hitting the ground.

Only after a nurse took Dean's vitals and he assured the staff that he felt fine was he allowed in to see his brother. He took up his customary position, in a chair next to Sam, holding his brother's hand. Dean didn't cause a commotion and the staff took pity on him, allowing him to remain with his brother at all times. Hours went by as Dean looked for a sign that Sam would wake up soon.

Dean took in the vivid bruises on Sam's face and the pallor beneath. His right arm in cast, the ventilator swishing, the IV in Sam's left hand…it all looked familiar. But this time a portion of Sam's hair had been shaved off on the left side of his head and a drain emerged from the bandages that swathed his head.

Dean leaned forward and carefully touched the silky hair above the gauze. "Oh Poneyboy, your tuff, tuff hair." Dean knew it was such a little thing in the scheme of things but he hated that Sam's floppy hair had been shorn. It made him look so young and defenseless.

Dean startled when he saw Sam's eyes wide open and staring at him. Dean hit the call button on the side of Sam's bed, anxious for the doctor to evaluate Sam. Dean soon found himself cooling his heels outside the ICU. Bobby quickly walked up, afraid that Sam had taken a turn for the worse.

Dean was so emotional he could only grin and wipe the tears that made their way onto his cheeks. He finally pulled himself together enough to announce, "He's awake. The doctor's with him now."

Dean found himself pulled into a one armed hug by Bobby. Dean detected the glaze of tears in Bobby's eyes, too.

The surgeon who had operated on Sam came out of the room and directly came over to Dean. "It's really quite amazing. He's awake and coherent. I took him off the ventilator. We're going to keep him in this unit for the next twenty-four or so hours so we can keep a close eye on him but I think he's turned the corner." He shook Dean's hand before turning to go.

Before he disappeared around the corner he looked back and with a wink said, "By the way, he said he wanted to see Sodapop."

Dean left a bewildered Bobby behind in the waiting room as he returned to Sam's room. Bobby didn't understand the allusion to The Outsiders but Dean remembered it well.

When Dean was sixteen he'd broken his leg. Badly. It was summer and he was hot, bored, and stuck with his annoying younger brother for company. Sam had tried to amuse his older brother by reading books aloud. Dean was at the mercy of his younger brother, leg stuck in a thigh cast which made moving extremely difficult, yet surprising Dean found himself enjoying The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton. Violence and action. Nothing at all like he had expected from a story Sam had picked out. And there was something about the way the brothers interacted that intrigued him.

Dean struggled to cap the emotions that were bubbling up inside of him as he approached Sam's side. He needed to be strong. He leaned over and gently put his head against Sam's shoulder, trying not to hurt his brother, but needing the contact. Dean felt cool liquid spilling onto the back of his neck and stood up to see tears running down Sam's face, too.

Dean cupped Sam's face between his hands, "What's wrong Sammy? Are you in pain?" Sam had been through so much and Dean couldn't stand to see him distress.

Sam mouthed "no."

"What is it? Is it what I said to Asher? Because, dude, I would never, ever, trade you for anyone. You know that, right?" Dean was anxious to set the record straight.

Sam beckoned Dean to lean over. This time he was able to whisper loud enough to make himself heard without much effort "Stay gold."

Dean relaxed for the first time in what seemed like ages. Sam was quoting The Outsiders again. Despite his brain injury he remembered that long ago summer.

Stay gold was code for never change, never lose your innocence. Dean knew he'd lost his innocence as a child but appreciated Sam's words. He just wished he could have kept Sam 'gold.' Forever.

-0-

Sam had been discharged from the hospital without incident. He'd endured poking and prodding and multiple therapies but had finally been cleared. He was a free man again.

And for the first time in a long time he had the full use of his voice again. It was a little soft and husky from a month of disuse but it was working again. For some reason he chose not to use it very often and it was unnerving to Dean. In the past he had kidded that nothing could really shut Sam up – he was always yammering about a job or the need to talk through their feelings or something else that grabbed his attention. Now Dean had to work at pulling things out of Sam.

Dean decided to try again. "What's the matter…cat got your tongue?" He twisted on his side so he could see Sam in the dull light given off from the streetlight outside their room.

Dean saw the beginnings of a smile quirk the corner of Sam's mouth and felt relief. The other thing he was on guard against was depression. The doctors said that sometimes after a serious illness or injury someone was prone to clinical depression. At times it seemed that Sam was teetering that way but Dean was trying his hardest to keep Sam on an even keel. What he didn't realize was that Sam was having similar thoughts about Dean.

-0-

Sam was at loose ends. His whole life, except for the blissful years he'd spend at Stanford, with Jessica, had centered around the Yellow Eyed Demon. And now the creature was gone.

He wasn't sure how it had happened but his brain had activated, his potential "gifts" roaring to life. With Jess and his mom's guidance, and Dean's body shielding him from Asher, he'd managed to overpower the demon.

One moment Asher had been taunting his brother. The next he was crispy bacon.

Dean had told him radioactive power had blazed forth out of his body and demolished the demon but he didn't remember it. He didn't remember much about Asher taunting Dean either. The aneurysm had stolen away the most critical moments of his life.

But he had Dean and for that he was grateful. He knew his brother mourned the trade John Winchester had instigated on his behalf, thought he should have been the one to die. But somehow Sam knew he'd needed Dean to complete his mission. The one thing he'd been trained to do since he was baby – defeat the Yellow Eyed Demon.

And for all that he felt empty and unsure of himself now.

He shifted on his bed and cleared the phlegm from his throat. "Dean, I've been thinking…"

Dean stood up and started to pace before sinking back down on a bed. "What's up, geek boy?"

Sam shyly smiled at his brother. "It's funny you should say that. About me being a geek, I mean. I haven't made up my mind but I thought maybe I could look into going back to school."

When Dean greeted his news with stoic silence, Sam considered abandoning the conversation. Dean's face was set in stiff lines and he'd dropped his eyes to stare at the uninteresting carpet at his feet. But a little voice in the back of his head which sounded remarkably like Mary Winchester urged him on. "Not Stanford. Something small. Part time. My school schedule would have to be flexible. You know, so we could still hunt."

Dean's head jerked up and he stared back at Sam. Hard. It made him want to fidget but he couldn't back down now. He needed to know how Dean felt. Sam realized that he needed to be around his best friend and partner in crime.

Sam found himself babbling in an attempt to fill the void of silence created by the lack of response on Dean's part. "I always liked the Midwest. It seems like most of our jobs have been in the rust belt so maybe we could make our home base there. You liked Lake Manitoc in Wisconsin pretty well. Maybe we could check out that area."

Dean hadn't moved. Sam's heart sank. The timing was wrong. Dean wasn't ready to hear this. He'd put his life on hold while he'd cared for an ailing Sam and he probably thought he was being selfish again, as he'd been accused of many times in the past. Sam was interested in continuing his education but he wasn't driven to pursue it. Not like before when he'd had something to prove to their father. And to himself.

In fact every decision he'd ever made had been driven by his family – either in its quest to wipe up the Yellow Eyed Demon or to escape that legacy.

And then there was the whole depression angle. He didn't think Dean was dealing with the after affects of the showdown with Asher. He was bottling it up. Reticent. He didn't want to cause his brother further anxiety. "Never mind. It was a stupid idea."

-0-

Dean watched as the tension fled from Sam's body and he collapsed before his very eyes. One moment he was the educated college boy, arguing his points, and the next he was Sammy, insecure and in need of protection. _Do I do that to him? Do I make him doubt himself?_

He reached out and kicked Sam in the ankle. "It's not a stupid idea. I just haven't given much thought to it. In fact lately I've had a hard enough time deciding between paper and plastic so you'll forgive me if I think this putting down roots thing is a really big decision, for both of us."

Sam kept his head down. He looked beaten down and exhausted. Dean hadn't meant to snuff out his idea; he should have seen it coming but he'd been so busy just trying to get Sam healthy that it had taken him by surprise.

Dean tried to think of what the future would be like. He couldn't imagine being away from Sam, not now that he'd gotten him back. He wasn't ready to give up hunting evil but there was more to life than that. Watching Sam suffer had really driven home that fact.

Dean wasn't ready to settle down with the white picket fence but he thought maybe he was ready to give walking on the normal side of life a try.

A lop sided grin split his face. "Hey, Ponyboy, I think you might be on to something. I think it's time to stop and smell the coffee. But not in the Midwest. It's too freaking cold there in the winter."

A dimple danced at the corner of Sam's mouth before hiding again. "Sure Soda, just please, no green pancakes with the coffee."

Dean snorted at Sam's comeback. He'd always treasured that summer with Sam; the Outsiders had somehow helped him -- the older, more mature brother -- connect with the geeky little twerp.

Now he was ready to connect with his brother as an equal. Sam had earned it. They both had.

Finis

A/N 2: In the first draft of this story, Sam sacrificed his life to defeat YED but John was resurrected. Fortunately that draft was eaten by my PC when it crashed. You, and the brothers, stuck through 36 chapters of this saga so it only seems fair that there's somewhat of a happy ending. Thank you for reading!


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